47 Days
by netracullen
Summary: Bella and Edward had never met until they spent 47 days in hell together. They can trust no one, except for each other. Now they're home, and trying to heal as they fight for the normality they always took for granted. Lang/Lemons
1. 1

**AN: So here it is. The first chapter of my highly anticipated (pfft) new story. Please, let me know what you think, if you're mildly intrigued or mildly sickened by it.**

**Shit, I've missed posting. I'm so excited to hear from y'all.**

**Enjoy!**

Bella POV

I don't even know how long we've been here.

In this room, devoid of all remnants of the outside world, it has become impossible to tell. I'm lying on a stained, bare mattress, something that belongs by the side of a road in a bad neighbourhood, and yet, it's my home.

Our home.

He groans and shifts on his side of the mattress.

"Hey," I murmur. I've learned that keeping quiet is in my best interests. Actually, anything that garners their attention is a bad idea.

"Hey," he grunts back, rolling over to look at me. He smiles weakly, and I smile back.

They've been rougher with him than they have with me. His face is beardy, covered in cuts and bruises. His kneecap is a little swollen, and even though he puts on a brave face, I can see him fighting back a grimace as he walks over to the small bathroom. The room is absolutely disgusting, a grimy sink and seatless toilet.

They both work though, so I'm grateful.

He emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, and flops his tired, skinny body back down onto the mattress. I've watched him pale and wasten away during our time here, and I'm sure he's seen me doing the same. I try hard not to think about the constant ache of hunger that resonates throughout my body.

"How are you?" My question is careful. I know full well that he's going to be in bad shape. They decided to play with us last night, and he caught the worst of it. His bruises are fresh, and his face wet from washing off the fresh blood.

I also know what he's going to say before he even says it.

"I'm fine, Bella."

I almost laugh when the predictable words leave his mouth. He's not fine. Nothing about this situation is fine.

_I had been here alone for a couple of days before they brought him. I was huddled in the corner furthest from the door on my mattress, shaking with fear when I heard the door open. I tucked my head into my knees, because I did not want to see who was coming in, or what they had in store for me._

_A moment later, I heard yelling, and the sound of a struggle. I looked up to see the two men who had brought me here dragging a young man in as he valiantly struggled against them._

_"Fuck you! Let me fucking go, you assholes!" he spat at them, trying to swing his legs out to kick at them as they dragged him._

_"You've got company, princess," one of the men cooed at me, before they threw him to the ground and then slammed the door closed. The sound echoed through the small room with a crushing finality._

_He was immediately on his feet, banging and pulling at the door frame. There was no knob on our side, or any windows. Getting out was an impossibility. He banged against it anyway, screaming obscenities and threats at our captors, who were paying no attention at all._

_"There's no point," I muttered, using my voice for the first time since I'd stopped screaming two days prior. He turned around, seeming shocked that he wasn't alone. He appraised me in the dull light emitted by a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, before he crossed the room and sat down beside me on the mattress as if we were old friends._

_"I'm Edward."_

_"Bella."_

_We shook hands._

_"I wish I could say it's nice to meet you, but it really fucking isn't."_

_I smiled weakly, feeling a little better because I wasn't alone anymore, and then a lot worse for thinking that way._

The door swings open and I flinch back instinctively. The door opening is rarely good. Thankfully, it only opens a little, and two water bottles are flung through, followed by a couple of granola bars. My eyes light up, because this only happens what feels like every two or three days. Not only are we about to eat, but time is passing. In a place like this, it has a tendency to feel like it isn't. Like I'm suspended in some nightmare that I'll never wake from.

Edward moves to stand, but I hold up my hand to stop him. Even in his state, he still has gentlemanly impulses. It's impressive. I get up, collect the food and water, and return to our mattress, our unlikely haven. We sit, facing each other ,while we plow through our crappy food like it's Thanksgiving dinner.

"You know," I muse while I chew, "I wish I'd met you before… everything. I think we could have been pretty good friends."

"What?" he asks, holding his hand to his chest in feigned distress, "you mean we're not friends now?"

"Well, of course we are. But it's a little… contrived, don't you think?" I smile teasingly and he smirks back.

"I guess you are kind of cool, especially in comparison to all the other fuckers I've come into contact with since I was brought here."

"I'd be more than a little bit pissed if you liked them more than me," I bristle and he laughs. The sound is throaty and ragged. It still makes me smile though.

We stay on the mattress until I can't sit still anymore. I pace around the small, dank room like a caged lion, desperate for the sun on my face, the smell of the ocean, a hug from my dad. I force myself not to cry. I've done more than my share of that in the time we've been here, and it didn't get me anywhere. Edward's never cried, not once.

"I wish I knew why we were here."

"Do you think that'd make it any better?" he questions. He's right. It probably wouldn't.

Suddenly, we hear a commotion from the next room. This hasn't happened before. I look over to Edward, and his eyes are fixed on the door.

"Bella," he calls, not looking at me.

"Edward, what's happening?"

"I don't know," he says evenly, "come here."

Without question I go to his side, and he pulls me down onto the mattress, inclining his body so that I'm behind him, and further away from the door. The commotion gets louder, we hear one, then several more gun shots. My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing getting heavy as my panic spirals.

If there is one comforting thing about what we've been through here, it is the consistency of our captors. Yes they are brutal, but they are predictable. This new activity frightens me so much more than the scheduled horrors we've endured.

Edward's arms fan out slightly, creating something of a shield around me. I grip his forearms tightly, trying to stop myself from slipping into a full on panic attack.

"It's ok, Bella," he murmurs, but I don't believe him for a second.

Then it happens.

The door bursts open, bathing us in bright light. We both recoil from the harshness. The light is quickly interrupted by a silhouette of a large man, taking up most of the doorframe.

"Isabella?"

I know that voice. The figure starts moving towards us, taking slow steps. We must look like frightened animals. I feel like one.

"Oh my god," the man breathes and the figure starts moving towards us. I cower behind Edward and his arms extend further, responding to my fear.

"Back the fuck up," Edward growls. He'd been like this since we'd arrived, always trying to protect me, and often at his own expense. The man ignores him, moving closer still, until I can finally make out his face. What I see makes me gasp, and the tears immediately start falling.

"Oh, baby girl," he coos, his voice laced with relief and pity. Edward turns to meet my eyes, and I nod frantically at him, confirming that this is, in fact, my father. He drops his arms and my father crouches before me. I cower away without realising, and he looks hurt. I can't help it. I lean into Edward, and the mattress, my two refuges throughout this ordeal. Edward remains stoic, taking in everything around us with suspicious vigilance. He trusts no one.

I know the feeling.

Four paramedics file into the room with gurneys and then dart over to where a small circle of law enforcement officers has gathered around Edward and I.

"Are you ok?"

Are you fucking kidding me? We've been locked in a humid, dark, disgusting room for an unnamed period of time. We are anything but 'ok'. I say nothing, too angered by their question to respond to it.

"We're fine," Edward speaks for us. A slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up at his use of the word fine. After all the times he's said those words, they might actually be true now.

He looks at me with a knowing smirk.

"Shut up, Bella," he chides me playfully, and I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my giggles. Everyone around us seems shocked by our banter. I'm not surprised they react like this, it's not like they could ever understand.

One of the paramedics leans in and extends a hand to me. I flinch away from it and Edward exhales heavily with unexpressed anger.

"Bella," my father says in a gentle but authoritative voice, "they need to help you up so we can get out of here."

I look at Edward, and his expression gives nothing away.

"Edward's parents are waiting for him to arrive at the hospital," Charlie continues, and Edward's face twitches at the mention of his family. With that, I am decided. I don't take the paramedic's hand, but I force myself into a standing position, then point to Edward.

"His leg… he's hurt," I tell them, and Edward scowls at me for outting him, although I can't understand why. A boy thing, I suspect. Two paramedics help him up while another guides me over to the gurney intended for me.

"I don't need this," I grumble, but they insist it's a safety precaution. Before I know it, I'm wrapped in a blanket and sitting in the back of the ambulance. The gurney feels nothing like my mattress. I miss it.

When we arrive at the hospital and I'm wheeled in, it occurs to me that I truly have no concept of how much time has passed. How long I've been free, how long I was in there, what day it is. How strange.

"What day is it?" I ask, to no one in particular. There is a woman standing beside me, taking my blood pressure. She answers.

"Thursday."

I stare at her blankly. That means nothing to me. Realisation lights her face and she tries again.

"Thursday, the 14th of May."

I take a minute to process that information. I fail. The words still have no meaning to me at all.

"Where's Edward?"

She seems surprised by my question, or perhaps my lack of response to the information she just gave me. I don't have the time or the patience to deal with her confusion right now.

"Where. Is. Edward?" I repeat. The only time we'd been separated in recent times was when bad things were happening. Actually, bad doesn't come close to covering it.

"Edward, the young man you were brought in with?"

I nod, trying to stifle my irritation and the burgeoning panic. I can't see him. Did they even bring him here? They wouldn't leave him, would they?

"Miss Swan, you need to calm down," she says in a calm professional voice, and I realise that my breathing is becoming erratic. "Edward is being checked out right now, just like you are. He's with his parents."

"But where?" Her answer does nothing to pacify me.

"He's in another room. He's perfectly safe and sound."

"I need to see him." I wouldn't believe a word she said until I proved it myself. The men would always laugh, take him away and tell me he'd be alright, and he'd return to me looking anything but. I don't know this woman, I don't know if she's lying.

"You can't see him yet, Miss. I need to get your vitals and check your wounds. They might be infected."

"I don't care," I tell her, and then jump off the bed.

"Miss Swan, please take a seat."

"No. Edward?" I call. No response. I try again, louder this time, still nothing. I'm panicking now. This place is big, so much bigger than what I'm used to, and he could be anywhere. He could be hurt, or they could have found him and taken him away, and I wouldn't know.

We have to protect each other.

My father wraps his arms around me, trying to detain me, and I start screaming. Why won't they let me see him? What have they done to him?

Through the haze of panic, I hear someone mention his name to the woman who had been taking my vitals.

"… Edward Cullen… no, apparently he's the same… we have no choice… panic attack in their current state… take her."

Take me?

Where are they taking me?

"You can't take me!" I scream. "Where's Edward?"

"Bella," my father murmurs to me, "you need to come with us."

My father's in on it too. He wants them to take me.

The waves of terror consume me, and everything seems to fade to grey. Someone picks me up, but I'm powerless to stop it. I should have known. At least this time I'm being carried, rather than dragged by my hair as usual.

Then, something penetrates the haze. A voice.

A furious, familiar voice.

"What the fuck have you motherfuckers done to her? Why isn't she walking? Bella? Bella!"

He's here.

I force my eyes open only to see him confined to a bed. Good. His knee is in terrible shape. He's trying to get up, but that won't do at all. I push against my father's arms, and happily, he lets me go. I dart over to Edward and he wraps an arm around me. I bury my face in his chest.

"Are you ok?" he murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear. I can also hear the orderlies clearing the room, giving us space. My father reluctantly leaves the room, along with a couple I don't recognise. I'm too exhausted to care who they are.

"Yes. I thought they'd taken you back," I confess. "I didn't know where you were. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he tells me, and I smirk at his choice of words.

"This place is too big."

"I know." Of course he does. He's the only person who knows.

"I couldn't see you."

"I'm here now."

"Good."

Our voices are near silent, a habit we've developed. Our conversations were one of the few things the men couldn't have, those were ours. Just as long as we kept them low enough that they couldn't steal them from us.

"Miss Swan," I hear the voice of the woman who'd pissed me off before. "Mr Cullen is here, and he's safe. I need you to get in," she says, and I look up to see her gesturing to the other bed in the room, "so we can finish making sure you're ok."

"She doesn't have to leave?" Edward clarifies.

"No."

"It's ok, Bella," he breaths in my ear, "we're together. It's ok."

I get up and take the four steps to the other bed, although I feel like I'm a mile away. This isn't right. We're vulnerable like this. He looks just as anxious as I feel, and watches like a hawk as the woman runs a series of small tests on me and gives me some stitches. She moves onto Edward, doing the same thing.

Finally, everyone leaves us alone, citing that we need sleep. It's a matter of seconds before I cross the room and we're together on the small hospital bed.

"I miss our mattress," I mumble absently as I try to settle in. The sheet makes a strange crinkling noise and I grimace.

"Yeah. It shits on this one," he agrees, as I knew he would.

"What's going to happen now?" I ask as I snuggle down in the blanket. He stretches his arm out and I rest my head on it. This mattress is much smaller than our one, so we have to tangle our legs and arms just to fit.

"I'm not sure," he says casually. Uncertainty is something that we're used to.

"We're going to be alright, though," I say, although it sounds like a question.

"We're going to be just fine."


	2. 2

I wake to the sound of low voices speaking. I can feel Edward's breath blowing out evenly on the top of my head as he sleeps. He's shaven and clean and bandaged now, which is unfamiliar, but he's still Edward, and that comforts me.

"I'm just not sure how we're to proceed with… this," a woman's voice sounds. She has a soft, southern drawl, and I know who she is immediately, because Edward's mother is from the south, and he lived there until he was three.

I crack my eyes open to see the woman gesturing towards our shared bed. Caramel coloured hair and green eyes remind me of Edward. She looks tired, and stressed, but she's lovely - like a 1950's movie star. Despite everything she must have been through, she's dressed impeccably.

"They'll be ok," a man assures her from her side in a more neutral accent. He's lovely as well. Blonde, with angular features and long legs stretched out before him on the chair. It's easy to see where Edward inherited everything. "They're in shock. It's understandable, even if it is a little jarring."

Charlie, who's sitting with them, grunts in agreement, obviously not able to contribute anything of merit. He's not the loquacious type, and this makes me smile a little.

"Bella, honey, are you awake?" he asks, and I'm busted. I open my eyes fully and his face lights up.

"Hi Dad," I murmur, my voice thick with sleep. He jumps up and pours me a glass of water. I drink it down greedily, and then look at the couple, embarrassed at my unrefined behaviour. They both smile back, although tentatively.

"Hi, Bella," the woman says. Her voice is quiet and soothing. She's worried she'll frighten me.

"Hello," I say shyly. I'm fighting the urge to hide my face in Edward's shoulder. I don't, but only for fear that it would make me look sillier than I already do.

"My name is Esme. I'm Edward's momma. This is Carlisle," she tilts her head in his direction, "his daddy." She laughs nervously. Her voice is a little bit hilarious. Carlisle nods his head in greeting. He has a kind smile that reminds me of Edward. I smile back, hoping to alleviate some of the awkwardness. I already know a lot about them, and everyone Edward cares about.

You can learn a lot about a person when you're confined to a dark room with them for an extended period.

"Bella, honey, why aren't you in your own bed?" Charlie asks gently. It's as though he thinks that speaking at normal volume will break me.

"Because…" I struggle for words, "it's just better like this." I doubt they believe me. We're cramped into the tiny bed, tangled together due to a lack of space. It doesn't look better.

I feel better though.

Safer.

"Are y'all… together?" Esme asks, and I blanche, shocked that she'd conclude that. I take a moment to consider how we're positioned, and it starts to make more sense.

"Drop it mom," I hear Edward's scratchy voice. I relax at once, glad that I don't have to handle the inquisition on my own any longer. "We're not together. We're just used to this. It's better."

I nod, because that's the best way I can think of to phrase it. Our parents don't look appeased, so I try to explain how we had to rely on each other when we were taken.

"When we were… when we…" I stumble over the words, unable to get them out. A long, wracking shiver courses through me at the thought of telling our parents what it was like. Edward feels it and his arm comes to rest on the back of my neck. It's a possessive gesture, but I can feel myself calming as he gently rubs his thumb over my nape.

"Look, can we discuss it later?" He's irritated now. I've set off his protective instinct and he's defensive. Charlie looks away, appropriately abashed. Carlisle does the same, but Esme's curious eyes are fixed on his hand.

She catches me staring at her and looks away, instead eyeing her son over intently.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asks him. He shrugs, I feel his body move behind me. I feel awkward here, in the way of their conversation, so I make a move to stand.

He stops me.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking me in the eye. He wasn't like this when we were away, but I assume that's because he knew that we couldn't lose each other. Out here, in the real world, it could happen easily.

"Bathroom," I murmur and he nods. I feel his eyes on me as I walk to the bathroom. I can hear Esme asking her son more questions. He barely responds. A few minutes later, I emerge, feeling more awkward than before I left, if possible. I lean on what was meant to be my bed, trying to fight back the discomfort I feel at being on my own so Edward can talk to his parents.

He looks at me like I've grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.

"Why are you over there?" he questions. He gives a nod, indicating that I'm required on the bed. Trying not to look as relieved as I feel, I return to his side. I sit at the bottom of the bed, careful not to get in the way of his injured leg. He reaches out a hand for me, and I take it happily.

Our parents look dumbfounded.

"I have to keep her safe, and this is the best way," he offers by way of explanation. A tear runs down his mothers face at his words, and I'm confused. Doesn't she want us to keep each other safe?

_The French man had Edward by one arm, the blonde had him by the other. Of course, he was fighting them, spitting profanities. He always did, and it never got him anywhere._

_" I'll kill you my fucking self, I swear to Christ! Let me the fuck go!"_

_They laughed as if he'd just told some clever joke._

_The blonde sent a knee into Edward's stomach, and he buckled. They released his arms, and he slumped to the floor. The blonde sent two swift kicks into his ribs. Edward cried out, and that frightened me even more. Normally, he never gave them the privilege of seeing the pain they caused, because they enjoyed it._

_"Please!" I cried, drawing their attention to me. "Please, stop hurting him!"_

_"Aw," the blonde cooed. "Lookee here, she's all protective. You gonna go all mother hen on us, are you honey?"_

_I shuddered at the term of affection._

_"Just… please, stop. He won't fight anymore," I whispered. "He's too hurt."_

_The French man had the decency to move back towards the door. The blonde stepped away from Edward and watched with perverse intrigue as I crawled over to him._

_Edward's breathing was irregular, he was obviously in great pain. His arms were wrapped around his stomach. I leaned down close and brushed his messy hair from his face._

_"You're a jackass," I murmured in his ear, too low for the blonde to hear. He was obviously interested in our interaction, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of eavesdropping._

_"Whatever," Edward dismissed me. "At least they aren't going to take you out there now."_

_I gently rested my forehead against his shoulder, trying to convey my gratitude and hide my irritation at once. He'd done this for me._

_"Thank you," I breathed._

_"Don't mention it," he said, and wheezed out a gentle chuckle. The sound made my eyes brim with tears. We sat together on the floor until the blonde got bored and left the room. Him, clutching his stomach, me crying softly and stroking his hair, trying as best I could to help ease his suffering._

_As soon as the blonde left, I helped manoeuvre him back to the mattress. He was suffering, but trying his best to hide it. A few hisses and sighs got out though. Each one stabbed at me like a needle. He was suffering because he wanted to stop them from hurting me._

_I pulled his tired, broken body onto the mattress, placing him closest to the wall, and furthest from the door. If the men came back, they'd reach me before him. It wasn't much, but it was the best protection I could offer him. I had to protect him anyway I could, just as he did for me._

"My poor, poor baby boy," Esme murmurs, and nestles her head in her husband's shoulder. Her shoulders rise and fall as she tries to stop her tears. Charlie and Carlisle look distressed too. I can't understand it. I look up at Edward, and he's just as perplexed.

"So, how long were we gone?" Edward asks conversationally. I look down. I don't want to hear about, or talk about any of it.

"47 days," Esme murmurs. I gasp and Edward's hand tightens around mine. Honestly, I'm a little surprised it wasn't longer. It felt like I'd spent my whole life in there.

"And why the fuck didn't you find us sooner?" His voice is angry. I pull my legs up to my chest so I don't have to watch the confrontation go down. Edward would always challenge the men, and they would punish him for it, at times severely.

"Do not speak like that in front of your mother," Carlisle says, and I flinch back from the slight hardness in his voice. Edward sits further up right, clearly preparing to defend himself.

"We weren't contacted for over a fortnight," his says quickly, trying to dispel his son's anger. This is strange. Normally, the men taunt him until boiling point, and then punish him for being rude. "I think they did that to try and get us panicked and compliant. We spent the remainder of that time talking to police and trying every means at our disposal to find you."

"Obviously, you didn't try fucking hard enough," he says rudely. "Do you have any idea what we went through?" I tuck my head further into my knees. I don't want to hear it.

"Of course you fucking don't," he spits before anyone can respond. "You could never even begin to understand what it was like for us."

"Edward, please…" Esme's voice trails off. She looks so sad.

"No, Mom." His dismissal is cold. Carlisle warned him, and he's going to be in trouble now.

I pull my hand out of his and cover my ears. I can't do this.

"Bella?" I peek to my left to see his face shift from anger to remorse in an instant. "Shit, I'm so fucking sorry." His hand stretches out tentatively, and after a moment, I take it. "I won't talk about it anymore." I smile at him, and he smiles back softly.

Charlie clears his throat, and I flinch. I'm not used to having other people around all the time. Even with only five people in the room, it feels crowded. Everyone's looking at us.

I don't know what they want.

The nurse bustles in again to check our vitals, stitches and Edward's knee. I'm forced to move back to my bed momentarily, and Edward is furious. He keeps it to himself, but I can tell. I think his parents can too, especially his mom.

The nurse finally leaves and he beckons me back over with a flick of his fingers. I sit on the end of the bed. We just look at each other for a while, and I feel the strain on me starting to lift. He's here, and we're both safe. I can't ask for more than that.

Later, Alice arrives. I've separated myself from Edward, who's being x-rayed to check the state of his leg and some suspected damage to his ribs. I feel the strain I always feel when he's not around, but everyone assures me that he's in perfectly capable hands and that no one will hurt him.

Esme goes with him, and I'm sure that if there's one person who wants him safe as much as I do, it's her. It relaxes me, if only a little. My no longer being alone in the room helps slightly as well.

Alice is so much more beautiful than I remembered her being. There had been moments when wasn't sure I'd ever see her again, and the sight of her is overwhelming. She bursts into the door, with a giant bow in her hair and clutching the Birkin bag she got for her 16th birthday. She drops it on the floor the moment she sees me. She launches herself across the room and onto my bed, wrapping her arms around my neck. I can hear her sniffling in my ear.

"Don't you ever leave me again," she says, as if I had a choice in the matter.

"I'm sorry," I murmur around her headpiece.

"I didn't mean it like that!" she cries and pulls back to examine me. "I just… oh my god, I'm so happy to see you!" She tightens her grip again. She's both sobbing and laughing, a strange combination, but it makes me smile regardless.

Eventually, she pulls back. She settles on the bottom half of the bed and just stares at me. I look away, feeling very uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

"You look awful."

"I know." There's no point denying it.

"What happened to you?"

"Alice…" I trail off. I really, really don't want to discuss this with her. She nods.

"Alright, I won't push it."

"Thank you." She has no idea how thankful I am.

"So where's this fella of yours?" she asks casually. I'm perplexed.

"Fella?"

"Yeah, your room mate."

Oh.

"Edward."

"Yeah. Is he cute?"

I blanche.

" Alice!"

"Well, sorry." Her apology is completely insincere. "I infer from your reaction that he is cute, then?"

"I haven't exactly been thinking about that kind of thing lately, Alice," I say, my voice scathing.

"Alright, alright, I'll drop it," she concedes. I'm glad.

We sit together, talking about everything I've missed, which amounts to very little. After a while, Edward is wheeled back into the room. Alice is fascinated by him. She mouths 'cute' at me and then jumps up to introduce herself.

His eyes focus on the large bow adorning her head and then he looks at me warily. I nod to him and he relaxes slightly. He trusts my judgement that Alice is safe.

"Hi!" she cries. He blinks at her overzealous approach. "You're Edward. I'm Alice Brandon!"

"I know who you are," he says lowly, clearly still sceptical. "Bella told me a lot about you while we were away."

Her answering smile is gigantic.

"Well, that's good I guess, but I know absolutely nothing about you, and that doesn't sit well with me, to be perfectly honest."

"Alice, please," I interject before she can start up her barrage of questions. "We're tired and not well right now. You can talk to him another time."

I feel bad dismissing her, and for a moment, she looks hurt. She reigns it in though. I think she understands that she can be a little overwhelming.

"I'm sorry," she relents. "I just missed you so much."

I smile softly and she returns to my side, pulling me into a hug.

"I should probably get going," she murmurs into my ear. "I'll come see you when you get home. I'm so, so glad that you're back, and you're safe." She picks up her bag from my bedside and heads over to the doorway, where she stops.

"Goodbye, Edward," she says with a wave and her most winning smile. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Alice." He flicks two fingers up in a half-hearted wave. She smiles at me once more and then leaves.

"Can you come here?" he asks as soon as she's out of the room. I climb onto his bed again and he takes my hands in his. He seems to visibly calm when he does this, and I definitely feel better. "Those tests took for-fucking-ever and I just… I don't like not being able to see you, and know you're ok."

He looks slightly embarrassed to be telling me this, and I can't figure out why. Of course it scares him. It scares me just as much. I squeeze his hands and smile reassuringly. After a moment, he smiles back. He knows that I get it, even though no one else does, or probably ever will. That's just the way it is now.

After a short while, Edward's parents come back. They tell me Charlie had to pop into the office for a little while but will be back shortly. I don't mind. Charlie's a busy man, I'm used to it. As the District Attorney in the Miami-Dade area, he's always busy. I've never felt neglected. I know he loves me, but he loves his job too, and that's fine.

We talk for a while, the four of us, not about anything too stressful, mainly polite small talk. Esme asks about my interests, my life. I struggle to recall a lot of it. It seems hazy, dulled by the glaring memory of our time away. Those months seem to hang over every other aspect of my life, making all the other details, the things by which I defined myself, seem less significant.

It disgusts me.

Edward, being Edward, can see me starting to stress, and asks his parents to go out and pick us up some fast food, claiming that he is craving a burger. Esme seems surprised, but Carlisle has a knowing look in his eye. He can see that Edward's protective instinct has kicked in, and he doesn't want other people around. They leave together, even though Esme suggests Carlisle stays behind.

"I'm sorry," I say when they leave the room. "It's just a little overwhelming."

"I know. Talking to people is really fucking draining. I never noticed before. I'm sorry about my mom giving you the Spanish Inquisition." He leans back on the bed, and I lean back with him. I'm tired, which is odd because I've barely done anything other than talk to people.

We lie side by side in companionable silence, my head resting on his arm. It's just as soothing as it always was, but now we're clean and safe, so it's even sweeter. Esme eventually returns with a bag of take out.

"I got your favourite," she tells Edward, her voice laced with emotion, as if buying him food means the world to her. I can't understand why it would. I guess it's a mom thing.

I look at him questioningly and he shrugs. She pulls the wheelie bed table thing over and starts unpacking food. There are two bizarrely large burgers and what looks like a bucket of fries on the table.

"Eat," she commands. She looks to me next. "There's enough in there for you too, honey. I wasn't sure what you liked so I got… I'll just hush up now." She gives her nervous laugh again and takes a seat on the couch under the window.

"Thank you, Mrs Cullen."

"I'll have none of that," she says with an easy wave of her hand. "Call me Esme, or momma."

I have to swallow back a laugh. Edward told me that she's a typical southern mom, but this is just… I love her already.

She gazes at us expectantly until he takes the first bite. He moans quietly and smiles at her, his cheeks full of food. A tear falls down her face and her smile is almost as large as his meal.

I cannot, for the life of me, understand what is going on.

I look at him to see him eying me. He holds out his hands, which are full of burger, in silent offering. Silent because he's still trying to masticate the obscenity.

I shake my head, because I can't think of anything worse than wolfing down half a cow right now. His questioning look turns into a disapproving one at my refusal. He thinks I'm purposely not eating so he can have the food. I'd done this a couple of times while we were gone, because seeing him waste away was one of the worst parts of the whole ordeal.

Now, however, a shortage of food is not one of my immediate concerns.

I don't want to fight him on this, so I reach over and pick up a handful of fries, chewing on them slowly. They're good, but feel strange sliding down my throat. Too heavy. I'm used to granola bars and the occasional apple.

Edward's a few bites into his burger, and I think he's starting to realise what I did immediately. His face has changed and his chewing has slowed. I smirk at him, and he scowls. He knows I'm onto him, and that I'm finding amusement in his suffering. I smile wider, unrepentant.

He puts the burger down and Esme's face falls like she's failed him somehow. She is a strange woman, but I feel terrible for her. So, I pick it up and take a bite. It's horrible. But, like the flick of a switch, her smile is back. Edward presses a hand to my back, a silent thanks. I lean back against him as I force myself to swallow it down. He hands me a cup of water, and I chug from it greedily. It does almost nothing to dispel the taste.

Edward eats a bit more, although I'm positive it's only to appease his mother. This makes me giggle under my breath. Because we're so close on the bed, he of course notices. He leans into me and whispers into my ear.

"What are you laughing at, hmmm?"

"You." My voice is almost silent, but I know he can hear it.

"Oh really?" he breathes.

"You're a big old momma's boy."

I can feel his cheeks lift against my hair as he smirks.

"That I am."

I laugh quietly. I thought he'd at least deny it.

I look up at Esme. She's watching us, and her smile has somehow gotten bigger. After a moment, she meets my eyes and clears her throat, abashed at being caught staring.

"I should go… find that husband of mine," she says awkwardly, then stands. She pats down her skirt, grabs her purse and darts from the room. I laugh. Edward leans back against the mattress, dragging me with him. It makes a weird crinkling sound, which I hate.

"Finally, some peace."

"She's lovely," I tell him. He snorts.

"She's a character, that's for sure." I laugh, because she definitely is an unusual woman.

"The voice is just… I love it."

"The novelty wears off, believe me."

A moment passes.

"She thinks we're together," I murmur.

"She doesn't understand just yet. She'll work it out, though." His voice is so sure.

"You think?"

"Yep." There's no room for doubt in his tone, so I accept it. I settle beside him, trying hard to focus on the fact that we're finally free, and not on all the millions of questions that now float in the air around us.

And for a short moment, everything is perfect.

**AN: Ok, so some housekeeping matters to attend to.**** Add me on twitter. Right now. netrasexual. Kthnxbai.**

***smooch***


	3. 3

I'd never realised until now just how over the top my bedroom is.

Firstly, it's far too large. Obscenely so. A gigantic carpeted room with a platform that houses my gigantic, pillow-covered bed. Double doors that open to a closet on one side, another door that opens to my bathroom, and a third set of doors that open onto a balcony. Sunlight streams into the room, bathing it all in a golden glow.

Ridiculous.

I reluctantly move into the cavernous space, trying not to look as freaked out as I feel. I know Charlie is waiting behind me, judging my every move. I know this place, it is my home. At least, that's how I should feel.

I miss my mattress.

I eventually walk over to an armchair in the corner and sit down, drawing my legs up to my chest. Charlie stands a cautious distance away, not sure how close he should get. He places my bag from the hospital on the bed, and then pulls some things from his pockets. I watch curiously from my perch.

"Bella, honey, I replaced everything that you had with you… that day. There are keys - I had all the locks changed, an iPod, and a new cell phone for you."

_The men were holding my phone in front of me as it rang._

_"Oh, you're certainly popular," one of them taunted. His skin was a dark brown, but he spoke with what sounded like a French accent. Odd. The other one, shorter with an olive complexion and a messy blonde ponytail, snatched the phone from his accomplice._

_"Laurent, lookee here. Daddy's calling!"_

_They crowed with laughter._

_"Please let me speak to him!" I pleaded, hoping that they had some modicum of pity in them._

_"Alright," the blonde said casually. He slid open my phone and held it up to my ear. My hands were bound, I couldn't hold it myself._

_"Bella?" my father cried into the phone. I burst into tears._

_"Daddy?" I whimpered. The blonde man chuckled._

_"Are you hurt?" he asked and I cried harder."I'm going to find you, baby. I promise I will. You're going to be-"_

_The blonde yanked the phone away from me. He tossed it on the floor then crushed it with several sharp blows from his shoe._

_"Oops," he said with wide, innocent eyes. The French man guffawed. They both looked at me expectantly, awaiting some response. I closed my eyes. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction._

I shudder at the thought of them, but Charlie continues as if he hasn't noticed. "Alice replaced all the numbers and such, and I got this from Esme Cullen. Such a nice lady." He places a piece of paper on my bed and lays the phone on top of it. He walks back over to the door, and then turns back to face me.

"I'll let you… get settled here. Call me if you need anything."

He looks at me, anticipation in his eyes. I'm not sure what he wants from me so I nod, letting him know that I acknowledge his words. He smiles weakly and then leaves the room.

I stay in my spot for a few moments and listen to him descending the stairs. Carefully, I get up and move towards the bed. I pick up the piece of paper, letting the phone slide off it and onto the comforter. The piece of paper is covered in words and numbers, in what I assume to be Esme's handwriting. It's lovely and delicate, and suits her perfectly.

Dear Bella, it reads. I thought you might want these. Listed below are two numbers: the Cullens' home phone, and Edward's mobile number. I laugh quietly at the idea of needing to call Edward to speak to him. I place the items on my bedside table and return to the chair.

Time seems to be progressing at a strangely speedy rate now that I'm free. Before I know it, the sun is setting. It's still warm though. It is springtime in Miami after all. On a day like this I'd usually be lying by the pool with Alice or Jessica, but instead, I've spent the entire day curled up in a chair.

I spent so much time fantasising about freedom, but now that I have it, it's kind of suffocating. I have to make my own decisions now, and I simply don't know how to do that. It's embarrassing, and more than a little irrational, but I don't know what I'm doing at all.

I look over at my bed and decide that 8pm is a perfectly respectable time for sleep. I shuck my shorts and shoes, then climb into the gargantuan bed. It feels wrong. I pick up a pillow and toss it gently to the ground, then another, until I'm violently hurling all of them across the room. They're fucking pointless, not comfortable at all. Purely aesthetic, covered in beads and other stupid crap.

I hate them.

I yank the sheets off the bed, and they join the pile. They're too soft, they feel wrong on my skin. I smile faintly when I see that the mattress exposed to me. It looks unbearably appealing. I flop down onto it, only to find myself disappointed. It's not the same, not even close.

This makes me burst into tears. Not quiet, delicate tears, though. Loud, wracking sobs burst out of me, and I feel like I can't breathe. I'm wailing like an infant, and my body seizes up with the strain of my outburst.

Charlie rushes into the room, panting slightly. I try to tone down the screaming and crying, but fail resolutely.

"Bella, what's - oh, my god!" he cries and runs across the room. The closer he gets, the louder I get. I don't want him near me when I'm like this.

"I'm sorry!" he cries, and backs off. "What can I do?"

There's only one thing I can think of.

"Edward," I gasp, just once. Charlie's mouth falls open. Moments later, I hear him speaking quietly with someone, although I cannot make out the words. I try to calm myself, but it's impossible.

I just can't understand what's going on, and it terrifies me in a way I can't control or rationalise.

My screams get quieter as my voice weakens, but I can't seem to stop them completely. I'm panting, my body has curved in on itself, and I'm in the corner of my bed, my back against the ridiculous headboard. Being in this position does nothing to make me feel safer though, because this room is too big and I'm on my own.

A moment passes, or maybe an eternity… I have no clue.

"Bella!"

My eyes snap open and my screams cease at once although the tears persist. Standing in my doorway, looking concerned by not at all confused, is Edward. I leap from the bed and he crosses the room in several large strides. I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. He staggers back, and I remember his weak knee. I try to pull away, but his arms hold me in place and his head drops to my shoulder.

"What are you doing, silly girl?" he asks softly.

"I don't know," I sob, trying to get a grip on the overwhelming relief I feel. If he's here, and I'm here, we'll protect each other. We're ok.

He leads us over to the bed, or what's left of it, and laughs quietly when he realises what I've done.

"That's a good idea. I couldn't get comfortable in my bed either."

I smile at him, because he understands. We settle ourselves on the mattress. It's bigger than our one, but it will do. We lie facing each other, not speaking. Just looking, taking comfort in each other, as we always did before.

"This sounds stupid, and I know it's only been a few hours, but I really fucking missed you."

"I know," I tell him. "Me too."

He sighs and reaches for my hand. I give it willingly and we sleep.

* * *

I wake up the next morning to see Edward by my side. I smile. This is normal. This is good. I pull myself up, feeling none of the soreness I had gotten used to while sleeping on our old mattress.

I miss it.

I go to the bathroom to clean myself up a bit. My eyes are puffy from my tantrum the night before, but there's nothing I can do about that. I wander downstairs, feeling strange and vulnerable in this oversized house. I know the way well, but I travel cautiously regardless.

I hear voices coming from the kitchen and pause by doorway to listen. I don't know who's in there, and I'm not about to waltz in.

"I'm not sure what to do," my father says, his voice morose and a little desperate. "I've never seen her like that, and there was nothing I could do to help her."

"Edward was out of sorts as well," I hear another voice, Esme this time. "He sat at his piano, not touching it, for hours. He jumped a foot in the air when I walked into the room, and he's barely spoken a word to anyone but Bella."

"I think," Carlisle speaks up, "that they've become dependent on each other during their abduction. They see one another as something of a saviour, and feel the need to protect one another. Even though their captors are gone, the desire remains." I grimace at his casual reference to our time away.

"What do we do?" Charlie asks. There's an extended period of silence.

"I'm not sure," Carlisle says. "It may wear off with time, when they become reaccustomed to real life. But for now, until we can get them into some kind of therapy, we don't have a whole lot of options."

More silence.

I take the opportunity to enter the room then. I loudly push the door open, and Esme flinches with surprise. They look guilty, even though they don't know I could hear them. I smile a little and go over to the fridge. I open it slowly, unsure as how to proceed. The fridge is packed, full of things I know I used to enjoy. What happens now?

"Bella?" Esme asks, and I jump slightly. She's right behind me. How long have I been standing here, looking at the contents of the fridge?

"What would you like, sugar?" she asks. She's dressed so well. I look down at my shorts and tank top, feeling underdressed and slovenly.

"I… I don't know." I blink hard, trying to dispel the confusion. She gently pries my hand off the fridge door and reaches in. She pulls out some orange juice and then grabs a glass.

"One for Edward, too," I instruct her. "Please." I don't want to be rude.

"Of course." She smiles and collects another glass, fills them both and then slides them across the counter to me. I hesitate for a moment and then pick them up. I smile at her, then at the fathers, and then make my way back to our room. My room.

When I enter, Edward is sitting upright on the mattress.

"Where'd you go?" he asks.

"Downstairs."

"You should have woken me so you didn't have to leave on your own." His voice is serious. He trusts no one.

I walk back over to the bed and hand him the juice. He smiles gratefully and I take my customary seat, legs crossed before him on the mattress. We both look at our glasses. I admire the slight condensation that has formed, making the contents of the cup seem even more appetising.

"Shit, it's been a long time," he mutters and then takes a sip. I do the same. It is fantastic and I find myself sculling down the whole thing. I finish with a satisfied moan and look up to see Edward has done the same. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and I giggle. He's always such a pig.

"Shut up," he grumbles. "It was really good, alright?" His defensiveness makes me laugh more.

I hear a knock at the door and Edward grabs my hand reflexively.

"It's Esme," sounds from the other side, and we both relax minutely. She opens the door a moment later, a tray in her arms. It's covered in an array of breakfast foods: eggs, sausage, hash browns, a fruit salad, some toast. She sets it down between us on the mattress.

"I wasn't sure what to make you two, but you need to eat something," she says softly. "You're both too thin, and it breaks my heart."

"Thanks, mom," Edward says and she smiles happily. She stands beside the bed for a moment, and then leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Neither of us move towards the food.

"Go," he says with a nod towards the tray. I shake my head.

"After you."

He rolls his eyes.

"Bella, I'm not touching anything til you've taken a piece of food from the tray."

Staring him dead in the eye, I reach out and pluck a grape from the salad. I chew it slowly, taunting him.

"There, I took a piece. Your turn."

"That's not funny," he growls at me, and I poke my tongue out at him. He scowls and picks up a piece of toast, thrusting it at me. I take it, although reluctantly. I feel a little better when he picks up the other one and takes a bite. I nibble on my toast, my stomach reacting in a strange way. I thought I'd wolf down the whole thing in an instant, but after half a piece of toast, I feel full.

"Why haven't you eaten more?" he asks suspiciously.

"Because for some strange reason, I'm really full."

"Yeah, me too," he says. "This is fucking weird."

He moves the tray to the bedside table and we both lean back against the headboard, our legs stretched out before us. Our shoulders are touching and the comfortable contact helps settle all the other, scarier feelings coursing under the surface.

"Well, this is a step up from our previous digs," he notes. I laugh.

"It sure is."

"Still… I kind of miss it. I know how fucking stupid and crazy that sounds, but it was familiar, you know? Everything's too big here, and my house is the same." I nod. His words, as per usual, make me feel less stupid for missing it too.

We stay there for a while, not speaking. We have well and truly mastered companionable silences.

"You know," he says after an age, "we could… do something."

"What do you want to do?"

He pauses in thought.

"I don't fucking know."

"We could do anything," I remind him of the daunting reality.

"Yeah… shit. That's intense."

"It's…"

"Fucking awful," he supplies. "Can we just stay here? Maybe put that to use?" He points to the big TV hanging on my wall. I smile and nod, because he's read my mind.

One might think that all I'd want to do is run around and get out into the world after being locked away from it for so long. Even I thought that's what I'd want to do. However, if being away has taught me anything, it's that the world is a big, scary place, and you're safest when you're somewhere small with someone who will protect you. In return, you protect them as well. It's the only way to survive.

So, even though my bedroom is far too big for my liking, we stay on the bed, watching Disney movies from my collection. I'd bought them in a bout of nostalgia and they are untouched, still wrapped in plastic. I pop in 'Alice in Wonderland' and dart back over to the bed.

Edward and I spend the rest of the afternoon in this position. It's perfect. I'm somewhere familiar, albeit obscenely large, on a mattress, with Edward. And unlike our time away, I don't have the added concerns of being at the whims of the men.

The men.

I shudder. Edward, being Edward, notices at once.

"What's up?"

"Oh… nothing." I know I'm just being silly, there's really no need to discuss it further.

"Fuck nothing," he dismisses me. "Tell me what's wrong."

I look down at the mattress, tracing the indents with my fingertips. He puts a hand over mine.

"Bella, it's me. Tell me."

I sigh heavily.

"I just… I don't like thinking about it."

He waits for me to continue. I really don't want to. Eventually I try again to frame the words.

"I just… don't know what happens now. Where do we go from here? How can I possibly go back to the way I was before? I barely even remember the way I was before. I need help, Edward! I can't do this on my own!"

My breathing accelerates and my voice rises in pitch as the panicked diatribe leaves my mouth. I close my eyes, trying to will away the terror that is bubbling up inside me. It's no use. My whole body is tensed and I'm rocking slightly.

How am I ever going to survive the world now that I know just how terrifying it can be? There's no way. I can't do it. But what choice does that leave me with?

"Bella, open your eyes. You have to calm down." Edward has never spoken to me like this before. His voice is stern, laced with authority and I can't ignore his instruction. I force my eyes open to meet his green ones.

"I'm fucking scared too, Bella. Believe me, I'm terrified. How can I possibly protect you, or myself out here? There's too much of… everything." He's not distressed like me, he's frustrated. I sympathise because I know exactly how he's feeling. I'm just not handling it as well as he is.

"But," he presses on, "we can stick together, and figure out some way to make shit work out here. Yeah, it's fucking scary, but we'll look out for each other, ok?"

His hands move to my arms. He pries them out of my hair and they fall limply to my sides. He then begins to stroke up and down, his fingertips grazing my skin in a bizarrely calming way. I sigh as relief creeps back to me.

I feel… relieved, now that he knows how I feel, and that he acknowledges my fears are legitimate. Although I don't understand how he can be so calm about everything, I know he won't leave. I know I can trust him.

He's the only one I can trust.

**AN: Oh, our poor, traumatised babies.**

**Ok, so someone decided to really sweetly and charmingly point out that my story is similar to one called 'The Perfect Space'. I do not steal people's ideas, and this is a really bizarre, embarrassing coincidence. There is more than enough room in the fandom for stories about kidnapping victims, and if you like the other one better, feel free to jump ship.**

**To all those who sent lovely reviews, I adore you.**

**Over and out.**


	4. 4

"Kids! Come down for dinner!"

Esme's voice carries up the stairs surprisingly well. I look over at Edward, hesitant. I don't really want to go down there. I'm meeting Edward's brothers, and the thought makes me sick with nerves.

"Edward, is there any way we can -"

"Now!"

I blanche, and Edward laughs.

"How did she know?" I ask, slightly terrified.

"She always knows," he states in an ominous tone. I laugh despite myself and then go to seek out some dinner appropriate attire as Edward ruffles through a duffel bag for the same thing. I like that Edward has belongings here. It makes me feel like he won't have to leave.

Although he will eventually.

I push back the frightening thought and focus on my task. It takes me a while, because I want to look nice like Esme always does, but I have no idea how to do that. She's so dainty and perfectly groomed and I'm... not. Eventually, I just reach in and grab the first things my hands touch, hoping they'll be ok. They're a bit too big, but there's nothing I can really do about that.

Once we're both dressed, Edward takes my hand and we leave the bedroom. I can hear loud laughter and unfamiliar voices. I slow my pace on the stairs, to the point where Edward is nearly dragging me down them. Halfway down, I come to a complete stop, jarring him slightly.

"I don't -"

"Bella," he cuts me off. "They're my brothers. They won't do anything other than embarrass me and crack shitty jokes. I promise, you'll be perfectly safe."

"You promise?"

"Of course. I'll be right beside you if anything happens."

I start moving again, albeit reluctantly. He squeezes my hand and smiles. If he says it will be ok, it will. He's never lied to me before.

We arrive at the large dining room to a completely unfamiliar sight. The table is covered with food and perfectly set. Charlie and I rarely eat together, and if we do, it's at the kitchen table, definitely not in here. It feels strange to see it like this.

Even more strange, there are 5 people at the table already. My father at one end of the table, Edward's dad at the other, Esme on his left and two men I haven't seen before are on her side of the 8-seater table, leaving Edward and I with our own side. I know immediately who they are.

The blonde, who I know to be Jasper, is sitting quietly, taking in the conversation as it flows around him. From what Edward has told me, this is normal behaviour for him. He's actually Edward's half brother, and five years older than he is. He's tall and blonde, and has his mother's green eyes, the same ones as Edward.

Next to him, chattering wildly while fiddling with an iPhone, is Edward's younger brother, Emmett. Emmett is 14 years old, and according to Edward, the biggest attention whore the world has ever seen. He's gangly and skinny, far too tall for his weight. He has sandy brown hair, a combination of his mother and father, but his father's blue eyes.

I look to Charlie, who seems just as overwhelmed by all of this as I am. Strangely, I take some courage from that. Knowing that your feelings aren't completely irrational makes you feel a lot better about them.

"Bella!" Esme cries happily, and I realise that we've been loitering in the doorway. "You look so pretty, sweet thing! That skirt is just adorable."

"Thanks," I mumble awkwardly. She jumps out of her chair and darts over to us, sliding her arm around my shoulders. Edward's grip tightens on my hand, letting me know that it's ok.

"These are my lovely sons, Jasper and Emmett." Jasper smiles and waves. He has the same easy smirk as Edward, and I relax a little. Emmett however, jumps out of his seat, knocking it back with a loud bang.

"Hi, Bella!" he crows, and I flinch back into Edward's side.

"Emmett, calm the fuck down," Edward hisses. Emmett looks crestfallen at my rejection, so I gather my resolve and try to be normal.

"Hello, Emmett. How are you?"

His smile is huge, just like his mother's when she gets her way.

"I'm great!"

Carlisle gives his youngest son a quick glance and he reseats himself, making me feel slightly more comfortable. Esme gestures to the two remaining places at the table, and Edward and I take our seats. Our hands dangle, intertwined, between us. I look up to see Jasper studying us intently. It makes me nervous, but I try my best not to show it. He looks away, so I think he can tell anyway.

I look to my left and see Charlie, who looks uneasy. I can empathise. My father and I have always been very low key, and this is far, far out of our normal range.

"Hi, dad," I say quietly.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs back. "How are you doing today?"

"I'm ok."

His look tells me that he doesn't believe me.

"Alright, I'm not ok just yet, but I will be." I'm not entirely sure how true the words are, but he looks slightly appeased.

Dinner is a pleasant affair, and Edward's family absolutely lovely, if not a little overenthusiastic. I think Emmett inherited that trait from his mother. Jasper has her southern drawl, having lived in the south long enough to develop a charming accent. It isn't as pronounced as his mother's, but still, it's lovely.

After dinner, Esme instructs Jasper to drive Emmett home, citing that he has school tomorrow. I have a bad feeling about this. They leave, and then there are five of us left at the table.

"So," Charlie starts, and then there's an extended period of silence. If I wasn't so nervous, I'd have laughed.

"We need to talk about the situation that seems to have developed between the two of you," Carlisle says, taking the lead on the conversation. Edward's hand tightens around mine, which only makes me more worried.

"What do you mean, the situation?" he asks warily. There's anger under the surface of his voice. The tension in the room is stifling, and my breathing gets shallower under the strain.

"Sweetie, you don't need to stress." Of course, Esme is eager to diffuse the situation. I pull Edward and my hands into my lap and fidget with his fingers as a distraction. "You two are… we're just…"

"Just what?"

No one will tell us what they're thinking, and while I find it terrifying, Edward is quickly getting angry.

Carlisle takes a deep breath and then speaks.

"Look, you two have obviously developed a very strong bond while you were… away. When you were separated last night, neither of you handled it in an acceptable manner. We need to talk about some kind of therapy in response to everything you've been through."

"No."

Edward and I say the word in perfect unison.

"No?" Charlie asks, shocked. "Bella, what happened last night… that's not good for you. We need to deal with this."

"I…" Edward squeezes my fingers until the table while I try to articulate my thoughts. "I can't."

"You can't?" Carlisle prompts. Esme is uncharacteristically silent.

"I don't think I can… talk about everything. Not yet."

"And I'm not going to let you guys try and force her into anything," Edward pipes up from my side. I squeeze his hand, grateful for the support. Charlie looks pissed.

"Listen here," he starts, but Carlisle holds up a hand to stop him.

"Charlie, we can't push them into anything they're not ready for. It'll just do more harm."

I sigh with relief when Charlie backs off, looking irritated, but resigned.

"Therapy aside, we still have some other issues to deal with. It would seem that the two of you aren't able to be separated at this point in time, and we need to deal with this development."

I'm confused. I don't understand why they're uncomfortable with Edward and my need to stay together, to protect each other.

"I don't see what the problem is…" Edward apparently shares my confusion.

"Edward, sweetheart," Esme chimes in for the first time, "you can't be living out of a duffel bag in Charlie Swan's house for the rest of your life now, can you?"

"Ok, so he brings over some more clothes," I suggest.

"And what, we leave the two of you unsupervised in my house together? That is not acceptable."

Charlie is angry, and I slide further down into my chair, away from the ire in his voice.

"I'm not leaving her here," Edward says back, his voice just as strong as Charlie's. "God only knows what could happen if I'm not here to protect her." I'm starting to panic. Edward challenging authority only brings bad things.

"Are you saying that I'm incapable of looking after my child?"

"How did that go for you last time?"

Edward drops my hand, shoves his chair back and stands up. Charlies does the same. I'm torn between my desire to run and my need to make sure Edward doesn't get hurt. My hands slide up into my hair, tugging on the strands in an attempt to distract myself from what's going on before me. Edward is going to get himself in trouble. I've seen this side of him before, and it never ended well for him.

_"Fuck you," he spat at the French man. The blonde laughed. And then punched him in the stomach. He was sitting in a chair, hands tied behind his back. I was cowering in the corner, completely unable to do anything. Sometimes they'd make me watch. They seemed to enjoy my terror almost as much as his pain._

_"You know what, kid? You must be even stupider than you look if you think that you can talk to us like that."_

_"I can talk to you however I want, you're fucking scum."_

_The blonde laughed again, but the sound was different this time. Not gleeful, but vacant. It was more frightening that anything he'd said before. He reached behind him and produced a gun. I cried out, unable to verbalise my fear. The blonde turned, smiled cheerfully at me, and then pistol-whipped Edward._

_The cracking sound would haunt me for the rest of my days._

_Edward spat out a mouthful of blood, and smiled at the blonde._

_"Does this make you feel like a big man?" he taunted. "Beating the shit out of a teenager who's tied to a chair?" He laughed derisively._

_"Yes, it does, actually," the blonde said with an easy smirk. _

_I closed my eyes before I heard the next crack as the metal collided with his jaw._

I can hear the noise ringing in my ears, as if it's happening again. My body begins to tremble under the weight of the memory.

"Both of you need to stop this, right now!" Esme cries. "Look what you're doing to her!"

Edward and Charlie both snap their gazes down to me, looking weak and panicked in my seat. Charlie looks horrified. Edward drops to his knees beside me, snatching my hands up in his.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Bella. I'm fucking sorry. They were talking about splitting us up, and I can't let that happen. I didn't mean it."

I whimper as the sound reverberates around my skull. He inhales sharply and his hands move from my hands to my cheeks.

"Look at me, Bella." I force my eyes open. "It's ok. We're ok. I'm so fucking sorry." He continues murmuring apologies to me until Esme loudly clears her throat behind us.

"Evidently, you're uncomfortable with them being here on their own," Carlisle states. I'd almost forgotten he was here during the melee. "And clearly, they won't be separated. You're a busy man, Charlie, and I understand how important your work is. This leaves us with one option, as far as I can see. Until we can get Bella and Edward into some kind of treatment for their ordeal, I think it would be best if Bella came to stay with my family."

Charlie thinks hard for a short while, furrowing his brows together. Eventually, he nods.

"Ok, Carlisle… but I have some ground rules about this."

"Of course," Carlisle quickly agrees.

"Let's discuss it in my office."

Charlie stands and gestures in the direction of his office. Carlisle stands as well.

Esme claps her hands together gleefully and jumps out of her chair to smack a loud kiss on her husband's cheek.

"That's a brilliant idea! Oh, you clever man of mine! Come, Bella. Let's get you packed!"

"Wait!"

Edward's voice interrupts the newly excited atmosphere in the room.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Esme coos. Clearly, she's thrilled to have her son coming back home.

"Have any of you noticed that no one's asked Bella if she's ok with this? Because I sure as shit have. I'm not going to force her to go somewhere she doesn't want to be, and I'll be damned if any of you think you can."

I smile at Edward. Despite the good intentions of our parents, he really is the only one who thinks of me, and wants to protect me at all times.

"I'm happy wherever, as long as we're both there," I tell him, and Esme claps again.

"Good! Now come on, sweetheart. Let's get you all packed up and ready to go!"

An hour later Esme has packed the majority of my wardrobe into bags, which Charlie and Carlisle are dragging down to their car. As one of Charlie's stipulations, I'm taking my car with me as well, just in case I ever want to come home and no one can drive me. The idea of driving it makes me a little nauseous, but I understand that he wants me to have freedom. Luckily, Edward is more than willing to drive us back to his place.

I stand in the doorway of my room, trying to think if I've left anything behind. Edward comes up behind me and rests his head on top of mine.

"Are you sure you're ok with this?"

"Yeah, of course I am. It makes sense, what with Esme being around all the time. Charlie's never here, and god knows you can't be trusted at home alone."

He sniffs and pulls away from me. I turn to see his arms crossed and a petulant pout on his face.

"Whatever. You're not invited anymore."

"Liar. Your mom loves me."

"… Well, that's true."

We laugh and descend the stairs and Edward climbs into my car, starting the ignition. I hug my father goodbye, although it's awkward and stilted.

"You can call me, or come and see me anytime you like, ok baby?"

He sounds uncharacteristically forlorn.

"Of course. Love you, dad."

"Love you too. Be good for the Cullens… and try not to get too overwhelmed."

"They're a colourful bunch, aren't they?" I say with a gentle laugh, and he smiles in a way that makes his moustache twist and his eyes crinkle. I haven't seen that smile in so long. I hug him once more and he opens the passenger side door to my car. I slide in, and he gives Edward a stern look. Edward nods, and Charlie closes the door.

I look out the back window as we pull away from my house, amazed at how it no longer feels like home. I jump when Lady Gaga blasts through the car.

"Shit!"

Edward is fiddling with the car's sound system, and I laugh before readjusting it to a more appropriate song and volume.

"Sorry, Alice was in the car the last time I drove it."

"She seems like the type," he muses with a smile.

I like that my best friend makes him smile, it makes me think that we might actually be able to make life work now that we're free. I need him, the compulsion to have him around is undeniable, but there are other people I love, just as there are other people he loves. If we can bond our lives together, we never need to be separated.

That thought makes me deliriously happy.

"So, because I'm sneaky, I eavesdropped on a lot of what our fathers were talking about." He has a proud and mischievous smirk on his face.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I know the conditions they agreed on."

"Alright, what are they?" I'm eager to hear them.

"Well, you have to have your own room, and we'll be strongly encouraged to sleep in our own beds."

I blanche at the very idea. He reaches out and squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I won't let them do that. But, it's probably best that you have your own room, because I don't have room in my closet for all your crap."

I smack his arm, but I'm smiling. I know that Edward wouldn't agree to keep us apart. And he's joking around, so he's obviously not worried about it. That thought relaxes me.

"Any other requirements?"

"A strict open door policy, but that's pretty standard. Charlie will get regular updates from Esme, and they will keep trying to convince us to go to therapy."

And immediately, I'm tense again.

"I don't want it." I know how petulant I sound, but I can't help it. The idea of being forced to talk about our time away, to a stranger no less, makes me physically ill.

"I know. Me neither."

"I get that eventually they're going to make us do it, but I just… I don't want to."

"I'll buy us as much time as I can," he says decisively. "Don't worry, I'll look after it. Now, let's see what kind of music you listen to when you're in here. What a person listens to when they're alone in their car says a lot about their character."

"Then I think you'll find that it says I'm phenomenal." I'm talking a big game, but I know he's going to think I'm a loser. One of my favourite songs fills the car, and he looks at me in shock.

"Is this who I think it is?" He sounds shocked.

"Possibly," I mutter.

To my intense surprise, he's impressed. He hums along to the music, and I beam the rest of the way to his place.

**AN: So now the most frequently asked question I've received is answered. Our lovely duo will be residing with Edward's family until further notice. Let's see how this plays out, shall we?**

**Also, twitter me up, because I love inane chitchat, especially in microblog form. netrasexual. get on it.**

**Smooches for all.**


	5. 5

We pull up at a house that is somehow, even larger than my own. I'm nervous now. This place is not only gigantic, but completely unknown to me.

"Edward, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Don't worry," he soothes, somehow sensing the cause of my distress, "it's just my place. I wouldn't have brought you here if it wasn't safe. The only thing you have to fear is my family."

I laugh despite my nerves and he jumps out of the car. A moment later my door is open and he's extending a hand to me. I take it and he pulls me from my seat, keeping his hold on me as we walk towards the house. It reminds me of the south, unsurprisingly. In the light of the dusk, it looks magnificent.

As we're walking up the steps, I realise that I've lived in three places in the last week. Our room, my home, and now Edward's house. I laugh at the preposterous idea. Just a week prior I thought I'd die in that room, and now I feel like a nomad. Edward looks at me questioningly when he hears my low giggle. I just shrug.

He opens the large front door and pulls me inside. The house is decorated in whites and beiges, but despite the size and colour palette, it has a distinctly warm feeling. I suspect Esme is behind this, and she's done an amazing job.

"Bella, sweetheart! You're here!"

Esme is gliding down the large, curving staircase in the foyer. She's surreal, like something out a movie. She pauses two steps before the bottom and then gestures me to meet her.

"Come on now, your things are in your room."

Hesitantly, I make my way over to her, Edward in tow. I'm too unfamiliar with my surroundings to let him go, but he comes along willingly. She leads us both up the stairs and to the left, pointing out the doors and telling me what's behind them. When we reach the end of the hall, she opens one of the doors.

"This will be your room," she announces grandly.

Of course, it's beautiful. Soft cream carpet, dark wooden furniture and a four poster bed covered with what looks like luxurious, not to mention expensive sheets. My bags are sitting beside two doors I assume lead to a closet.

"This door," she says with a flick of her hand, "leads to your bathroom. You actually will have to share it, but it's only with Edward, and from what I can see, the two of you seem comfortable with that. In fact, you seem to prefer it." She giggles sweetly. Edward presses his palm to his face, mortified. I just laugh.

She points at her son and then at me, shifting her finger between us accusingly.

"No funny business though. Not in my house."

As quickly as her firmness appeared, it's gone again.

"Let me know if you need anything sweetheart," she coos and then sweeps from the room. I busy myself until bedtime by unpacking and organising my clothes so that they hang exactly as they did at home. It's silly, but somehow makes me feel a little better about being in a strange house. Edward helps until I exile him to the bed for mocking my particular system and purposely trying to derail it by handing me the wrong things. He also surfs through my ipod, commenting as he goes. More than once, I throw a t-shirt, or in extreme cases, a shoe, at him. He just laughs and continues ridiculing me.

The teasing and banter distracts and calms me. I suspect that was part of his plan.

We're sitting on the bed, arguing about nothing when Carlisle knocks on the open door. He's wearing a t-shirt and sleep pants with bare feet. I almost laugh with surprise. He always looks so professional. Edward takes one look at his father and immediately tenses. I reach for his hand, because Edward being tense makes me nervous.

"Ok," Carlisle says, his voice loaded with reticence, "I know you won't be especially excited about this, but I think it's crucial to see what we're dealing with here. So, I'm going to ask that the two of you sleep in your respective rooms tonight."

Edward exhales heavily. Somehow, the sound is full of anger.

"Edward, I know you don't want to do this, but it's important that we gauge the extent of your... bond. Remember, you two are side by side, separated only by your bathroom, which you can both enter easily. I just think you should see if the knowledge that you are close by is enough to calm you. Charlie and Esme think this is an important step as well. If it doesn't work we can re-evaluate tomorrow."

Edward opens his mouth, presumably to cuss out his dad, but I squeeze his hand and cut him off.

"Ok."

Both Carlisle and Edward look at me, shocked. I turn to Edward first.

"We should just do what he says. There's no reason to fight him on this." If I can avoid what happened at dinner between Edward and Charlie happening again, I will. I turn back to Carlisle.

"If it doesn't work, we can go back to the other way?" I clarify. He nods, still surprised at my easy acceptance. Truthfully, I'm terrified, but this is Carlisle's house and I'm definitely not going to defy him.

I nod.

"We'll try it."

Edward sighs, resigned.

"You get one night. If it doesn't work, too bad. And we keep our bathroom doors open."

"Absolutely." Carlisle is thrilled. "Thank you, both of you."

Edward grunts in acknowledgement, and I do my best to smile. Carlisle bids us goodnight and leaves the room.

"I can't fucking believe we're doing this," Edward grumbles as he stands. He starts making his way over to his room.

"Wait!" I climb off my bed, and start pacing slow even steps until I reach his bed. "16 steps. That's all. It's not even really that far."

He laughs despite his annoyance with me.

"You are so weird."

"Shut up."

"Goodnight, Bella."

"See ya."

I stroll flippantly out of the room until I feel a pair of arms enclose me from behind. I smile hugely.

"See ya?" he mocks. "What the fuck was that?"

I turn in his arms so that we're face to face and shrug casually. His expression darkens. I try to twist out of his grip but his hold is steadfast. He tosses me over his shoulder and I squeal as he carries me into my room. One of his arms is holding down my flailing legs, the other is tickling at my ribs. He's also counting aloud as he tortures me.

"...11...12." He flops me down onto my bed. "I knew you were exaggerating."

"I was not. You just have freakishly long limbs," I sneer at him.

"6'2" is a perfectly natural height, whereas - what are you, 4 foot nothing? - is anything but, my dear _little_ Bella." He exaggerates the word 'little' in the sentence, just to annoy me.

"I am 5'6", thank you very much. Go away."

I scowl and crawl under my covers, rolling away from him. He laughs at first, but stops when he starts to suspect that I'm not kidding around. He walks around to the other side of the bed and squats down so he's looking me in the eyes. I poke my tongue out at him and roll over. I'm stalling, trying to drag out our time together until I have to be on my own.

Suddenly, he's on top of me, his knees straddling my stomach. I'm pinned to the bed, and his fingers are tickling at my sides again.

"Stop!" I cry, but he laughs and ignores me.

"Are you still grumpy with me?" he taunts like he's talking to a crabby five year old.

"Yes," I pout, squirming away from him as best I can.

He tickles harder.

"Alright! I'm not, I'm not!"

He stops immediately.

"Good." He swoops down and kisses my forehead then climbs off and leaves the room. He's whistling cheerfully. The boy will be 18 in a month, and behaves like he's 12. It's infuriating, but strangely endearing.

"I hate you!" I call out to him, because I can be childish too.

"No you don't!" he calls back. I scowl, and settle down into the bed. It's way too soft, but I figure that I should try to behave like an adult and just deal with it. Thankfully, there's only two pillows on the bed. From what little I know of Esme, there were probably a lot more, but she removed them for me. What a lovely woman.

I sigh and roll over.

Edward is right next door. There's no reason to panic.

"Edward?" I call quietly. Just to make sure.

"What's up?" I hear his disembodied voice and smile.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bella."

It takes me an eternity to get comfortable, but eventually, I manage to drift to sleep.

* * *

I wake to a noise.

Someone is downstairs.

I sit upright in my bed, straining to listen for whatever is happening. I hear the sound of a stair creaking. I throw myself out of my bed and take the sixteen steps to Edward as quickly as I can.

"Edward! Wake up!" I whisper-yell.

"Huh? Wha's goin' on?" he mumbles sleepily. I shake his shoulder to rouse him and his eyes open blearily. As soon as he sees me, his eyes snap fully open and he sits up.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

"There's someone coming up the stairs," I breathe. "We have to get out of here." My eyes dart around the room, evaluating points of exit, because we can't go through his bedroom door, we'd walk straight into whoever is coming up.

"Come here," he murmurs, his eyes focused on the door. He reaches out for me and pulls me down onto the bed, inclining himself between me and the door. I grab a fistful of his t-shirt, as if I can hold him here.

"Shhhh," he tells me, and I realise that I'm almost hyperventilating. I put my hand over my mouth to silence myself. He listens, and we hear another creak. I yelp under my hand, and he reaches behind himself to unknot my hand from his shirt. He squeezes once, and releases it. Then, to my confusion and terror, he stands up and starts moving towards the door.

"Edward, no!" He looks at me over his shoulder.

"Stay the fuck where you are. Do not move."

He slowly turns the knob on his bedroom door and slips out into the darkness of the hall. Suddenly, my fear evaporates, replaced by a burning need. I _have_ to keep Edward safe however I can. I climb out of bed and follow him. I'm almost to the door when I hear a loud cry followed by a bang and the sound of glass breaking.

For an instant, I feel like my heart has climbed out of my body.

Edward's hurt, and it's my fault.

I've failed him yet again with my weakness.

I bolt out into the hallway. Edward has someone pinned to the wall by the throat. Although I relax slightly, his proximity to our would-be attacker still frightens me.

The hallway light comes on, temporarily blinding me.

"Edward, put him down!" Carlisle's voice is measured and professional, but underneath it is panic. I look over to him standing in the hallway, with Esme behind him. I look back to Edward, only to see that there was no intruder. Emmett's skinny body is pinned to the wall, Edward's forearm over his throat and a broken glass at his feet, water spreading across the floorboards.

"Oh my god," Esme murmurs.

His mother's voice seems to break Edward from his haze and he drops his hold on his brother. Emmett leans back against the wall in complete shock, sinking slowly to the floor. Edward takes two steps backwards, teetering dangerously close to the staircase, so I dart over, grabbing onto his arm.

"Fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, fuck, _Fuck_!"

I pull him away from the broken glass and back towards his room. Esme rushes over to her youngest son, helping him up. Carlisle surveys the scene before him and then follows Esme.

I lead Edward back over to his bed. He sits down and presses his face into his hands, his elbows on his thighs. I take a seat beside him, wrapping my arms around him as best I can. It's the only thing I can think to do that might help him feel a little better.

"I didn't fucking know," he mumbles. "I didn't know it was him."

"I know you didn't." He doesn't have to explain himself to me at all.

"I just... fuck. I thought someone was going to... I can't risk anyone hurting you again... Fuck!"

I flinch back from the sudden change in pitch.

"... And now I'm scaring you too. I'm so fucking..."

A quiet sob cuts off his words. My mouth falls open in shock. Edward was always so strong when we were away. I was always the hyper-emotional, unstable one. Seeing this side of him, his fear, nearly kills me. I shove his arms away from his face and climb into his lap, wrapping my legs around his torso. His head falls to my shoulder, and I feel wetness on the exposed skin left by my tank top. I slide my hands into his hair, massaging the nape of his neck with my fingertips as he lets it all out.

"Shhh," I coo, trying to be supportive, as he always was for me. "It's ok, Edward. Emmett will understand, and so will your parents. I thought it was something bad too. It's not your fault, it was an easy mistake to make. Shhh, it's ok. We'll be ok." I continue murmuring like this until his breathing regulates slightly and the tears stop. Slowly, he pulls back from my shoulder and looks at me.

His face is tear-streaked and red, and I can barely stand to see him like this. It doesn't matter though. Not in the slightest. I press my forehead to his and slide a hand out of his hair to wipe away his tears.

"It's ok. I promise it's going to be ok."

"Don't leave me," he murmurs.

"I won't. Not ever."

As if he even has to ask.

We hold eye contact, completely motionless. A wordless conversation passes between us. I tell him how much I need him, how I trust him and that I would never leave. He tells me how scared he is, and that he would do anything to keep us together and safe. I wonder how someone can make me feel strong, like a protector, but so weak, like I need him just to breathe.

"Thanks," he says quietly.

"You're welcome." I lean up and kiss his forehead, because it always made me feel better when he did it.

He settles his head back down in the crook of my neck. We sit like this for an age, my hands moving through his hair, his hands around my waist and my legs around his body. I'm using every inch of myself to comfort him, giving him everything I have. I let my chin rest on his shoulder, our ears touching. He's helped me in ways he can't even fathom since I've known him, and knowing that I can do something to ease his suffering brings a flicker of relief in this mess.

I hear a soft gasp and my head pops up to see who it came from. I put my hand on the back of Edward's head protectively, holding him to me, but he doesn't even flinch at the noise.

Esme is standing in the doorway, in her lovely cream satin nightdress and matching robe. I smile weakly at her, trying my best to assure her that everything's fine. Or as fine as it could be, all things considered.

"Thank you," she mouths. I nod minutely in acknowledgement and she blows a kiss at us then pulls Edward's door closed. The louder noise catches Edward's attention.

"Who was that?" he murmurs, his voice muffled by my shoulder.

"Your mom."

"I'm such a fuck up," he says, almost just to himself. I start moving my fingers through his hair, trying to calm him.

"You are not." I state, quietly but firmly. "You're perfectly fine."

He snickers throatily, understanding the humour in my words, and I can feel him smirking a little against my skin. His body relaxes again against me, and as we sink back into our own little world once more, my feeling of contentment starts to return.


	6. 6

I wake up lying on top of Edward, my legs under his body and his face still pressed into my shoulder. We seem to have fallen asleep in almost the exact position we were in the night before. One of my legs is asleep and I'm uncomfortably warm. I try to gently remove myself from Edward without waking him, but when I hear his low moan, I realise I've failed.

"What the… oh, hey," he murmurs as he gets his bearings.

"Uh… hi." I'm feeling very awkward, which surprises me. Edward and I have been through so much together, and yet I'm blushing like I'm at my first school dance.

"Well, this is new," he says with a laugh. I shoot him a withering look and climb off him, eager for a bathroom. In case I wasn't embarrassed enough, I stumble on my sleeping leg. He reaches out a hand and rights me before I can fall.

I stamp my leg on the ground a couple of times to return circulation, then turn to head for the bathroom. He holds onto my hand, manoeuvring me so that I'm facing him again.

"Thanks," he says, "for last night."

"Don't worry about it. You've done it for me enough times."

"No, I'm serious… Thank you."

I lean down and wrap my arms around his shoulders briefly. His wind around my waist. I rest my chin on the top of his head and let him deal with whatever he needs to.

A few moments pass before my body makes itself known.

"Edward?"

"Mmmm?" he hums against my stomach.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, I have to pee."

He pulls back immediately with a playful grimace. He holds onto one of my hands though.

"Gross, woman."

"Oh whatever," I sniff. "You've seen me vomiting my guts up while sobbing uncontrollably. Social niceties don't exactly apply anymore."

"Fair call." I pull away from him slowly until he releases my hand and make my way into our shared bathroom.

Once I'm finished, I head straight back to my room to dress myself. I rifle for my favourite t-shirt, because I know that this morning isn't going to be easy. Before I met Edward, I thought of it as my own little amulet. Now, that thought seems kind of ridiculous.

I walk back through to see Edward sitting on his bed, fiddling with his laptop.

"You're stalling, aren't you?"

He scoffs.

"No, I was just waiting for you, because I'm a gentleman like that."

"Yeah, alright," I say with a roll of my eyes. I look down at him, expecting to see a cheeky smirk on his face. Instead, I see indecision and fear.

"I just…" he pauses and takes a deep breath. "I can't believe I did that. I feel so fucking stupid."

I sit and take his hands in mine.

"Edward, they will forgive you. They don't understand what it was like for us, but they're your family, and they'll let it go. You didn't hurt him. It's_ fine_."

"Very funny," he says, but his weak smile relaxes me a little.

"Come on," I urge, using all my body weight to try and pull him from the bed. "We'll do this together. It'll be ok. Now hurry up, I'm hungry."

"Alright, alright," he huffs. "Are you going to put some pants on?"

I dart over the bedroom door, and pull my shirt up, revealing my behind covered in denim shorts.

"You think that's funny do you?" he growls. He launches himself off the bed and runs for me. I squeal as he picks me up and carries me off, bridal style. He descends the stairs with me kicking and screaming, completely nonchalant. In fact, he's humming merrily.

"Put me down!" I cry.

"You got it, sweetheart." He spins in a circle three times at a dizzying speed before putting me back on my feet. I sway slightly as I try to get my bearings. He laughs and wraps his arms around my waist.

"You're lucky I haven't eaten breakfast yet," I grumble as he leads me along, "otherwise you'd be seeing me vomit all over again." His laughing gets louder. Although I'm embarrassed and disoriented, I'm happy that I can distract him from his wallowing about last night.

He pushes me through the kitchen door.

"No need to manhandle me," I giggle and swing an elbow into his side that he neatly dodges. I stumble and he grabs me.

"Wow, you're clumsy this morning," he teases and I poke my tongue out at him.

Someone clears their throat behind us, and I jump. We turn to see that Esme, Carlisle and Emmett are sitting at the kitchen table and have witnessed our exchange.

There is a few seconds of intensely awkward silence.

"Good morning, babies," Esme chirps, rising from her seat. "What can I get y'all for breakfast this beautiful morning?"

She bustles us over to the table where there are two place settings available. We sit down and she quickly pours two glasses of juice for us then dashes back to the stove. Edward looks down at his plate, his hands knotted in his lap. I pry his hands apart and take one in mine, trying to give him as much support as I can. Carlisle is studiously reading the paper, and Esme is busying herself with breakfast.

"Emmett," he says quietly. His little brother looks up from his plate and Edward inhales sharply when the bruise on his neck comes into view.

"What's up, big bro?" Emmett asks, trying to act casual. I smile a little at his attempt to relax his brother.

"I'm… shit, I'm so fucking sorry, Emmett."

"Language, Edward," Carlisle chides without looking up.

"It's cool, it's my fault for sneaking around like a -"

"No," Edward cuts him off. "It's not your fault, and I'm really sorry."

Emmett nods once.

"Apology accepted, brother."

A moment passes between them before they smirk at each other and all tension in the room dissolves. Esme takes her place and puts a tray of food in the centre of the table. Emmett fills his plate and is eating in a matter of seconds. Considering how gangly he is, it seems odd that he eats like a starving animal, and yet, it's strangely fitting.

The family dynamic, although somewhat crowded, is very charming in its way. Charlie and I are never like this, and it's something of a novelty.

"So," Esme says over her china tea cup, "what is everyone doing today?"

"School," Emmett garbles out through a mouthful of food. "Rosie's gonna come over in the afternoon."

"Who's Rosie?" I ask impulsively.

"Emmett's girlfriend," Edward says with a smirk. Emmett chokes on his food, coughing loudly.

"Edward!" he cries. "She's my best friend. We've been friends since we were little."

"Her mother is a dear friend of mine," Esme adds.

"And Emmett loves her," Edward sings. Emmett looks down at his food, his ears bright red.

"As if," he huffs.

Edward and I both laugh. He's adorable. Esme rubs her son's back comfortingly, although she's smiling herself.

"Enough is enough, you two," she chides us gently. "What will you be doing today?"

"We'll probably hang around here, let Bella get used to the place," Edward answers for us.

"It's a beautiful day, you should use the pool," she offers. "I won't be here in the afternoon, I have book club, but I'll make y'all some lunch before I go, okay? Good." She nods decisively and apparently, our plans are set. Edward looks to me for confirmation.

"That sounds good to me. Alice wanted to stop by this afternoon, if that's ok?"

"Of course it is, sweet thing! She's welcome any time, all your friends are." Esme's hospitability doesn't surprise me.

"Thank you, Esme. You're too kind."

"Pshaw," she dismisses me with a wave of her hand. "Now, hurry up and eat."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Edward and I are by his pool. He's lying on a floating pool lounge, I'm on a deck chair, and music floats through the warm spring air. It's bliss, exactly what I'd fantasised about so many times while we were away. Sun on my skin, the smell of my coconut sun screen and chlorine. It feels almost surreal.

"Bella?" Edward calls from his floating bed. I push my sunglasses back into my hair to look at him.

"What's up?"

"Come swim with me."

"No."

"Please?" He sounds like a whining child.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

He huffs, and I smirk.

"Alright, fine," he says petulantly, before sliding off the blow up toy and into the water. He swims to the edge and rests his forearms on the side of the pool. "Can you at least pass me some water?"

"Ugh, you're so needy," I mutter but do it nonetheless because in reality, his request hasn't bothered me at all. I fill a plastic cup with water and walk over to the pool side.

He reaches towards me, but instead of taking the cup, he grabs onto my wrist. In a deft move, he kicks away from the wall, pulling me with him. I suck in a mouthful of air just as I hit the water, only to emerge coughing violently.

Not to mention ticked off.

He's laughing as he swims over and supports me as I regain my composure. I try to struggle away from him.

"I hate you," I splutter.

"Liar."

I splash him right in his open mouth, so at least we're in this together. He continues to laugh between coughs.

"You don't like to lose, do you?" he taunts.

"I wouldn't know, I never have." I wrap my arms around his neck and try to pull him under the water, but the hold he has on me means I'm unable to use my body weight against him. He yawns playfully, bored with my lame attempts to teach him a lesson. I slide my fingers upwards, and try to use his hair as reigns to control him. I fail.

"Bella, you're just going to have to accept it. I'm invincible."

I scoff and roll my eyes at him. He laughs at my pique, and I use the distraction to shove his head under. He lets go of me immediately. I laugh victoriously and then fingers wrap around my ankle, yanking me back down under the water.

Once again, I emerge gagging and spluttering as he laughs at me. I lock my legs around his waist, because I refuse to go under again. I try in vain to push my heavy hair out of my face, and he chuckles as he helps return the wayward strands to their normal position.

"Thanks," I murmur as I shove the final, stubborn bits of hair back.

"You're welcome," he says, his voice strangely pensive. I look at him to see that his head is tilted to the side, and he's gazing at me with appraising eyes. Like I'm a puzzle he's trying to decipher. Or one of those pictures that you can't make out on your first look.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?" He's still deep in his abstraction. One of his hands is resting on the back of my neck, the other around my waist. Mine are on his shoulders. Everything seems to be slowing down, and our voices are lowered even though we're alone.

We're in a bubble.

"Are you ok?"

I wait for his answer, but he's just looking at me. I feel like he's seeing through my skin.

"I'm… fine. Never better, actually."

There seems to be a static electricity in this little bubble of ours. It's unfamiliar, consuming, and a little frightening. It's not entirely unpleasant though. His fingers begin moving on my nape, tracing the hairline and sliding my wet strands between his fingertips. I relax at the familiar, comforting touch and my arms tighten around his shoulders, drawing us closer together.

"Edward?" I ask again.

"Yes, Bella?"

I can feel his breath on my face, and the question I was about to ask evaporates. I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but I can't even consider trying to stop it. I feel magnetised, my face drawing towards his without my active consent. His is moving too, and we match our paces exactly as we edge towards… something.

I don't know what that something is, but the need to find out consumes me.

"I want to…" he murmurs, trailing off. Our faces are inclined so that we're stealing each other's breath. And yet, something is drawing me closer. It's completely foreign to me, but I'm powerless under the force of it.

"Yes," I breathe, because whatever he wants, I want it to. He's holding my eyes to his, although the temptation to let mine flutter closed is strong. I need to see him, I need to see everything.

I need to understand.

"Yes?" he questions lowly. I can barely hear his voice, and I'm almost as close to him as possible.

"Yes," I say with a tiny nod of my head. Tiny, but just enough for our mouths to brush past one another.

"Yes." He repeats the word as his lips press minutely against my own. Our noses graze, and time seems to have suspended itself. I struggle to process what is happening, and fail. Rational thought alludes me as his mouth meets mine, ever so slightly firmer than before.

It's not even a real kiss, just our mouths touching, but it's so much more than anything I've ever encountered. The comfort he brings me just with his presence is amplified thousand-fold when he's touching me like this. It's the most exquisite relief from all the stress and panic and nausea I feel just trying to get through the days since we've been free.

I feel normal, for the first time since it happened.

It's divine.

And as soon as I find nirvana, it's gone.

Alice throws open the backdoor with a loud "What up, mofos?"

We pull apart, both our faces alight with confusion and panic at being caught. I'm desperate to know what Edward is thinking, but just as desperate for Alice not to know what just happened. This is ours, I don't want anyone else involved in it.

Edward releases me and I pull myself out of the pool, jogging over to meet Alice as she walks down to where we are. Thankfully, the pool is a small walk from the house, so I don't think we've been busted.

Alice throws a casual arm around me as we walk back down the path to the water, and I see Edward is back on his lounge, floating casually along as if nothing has transpired. I wish I could feign the same nonchalance. My whole body is buzzing with confusion and… relief. Dizzying, overwhelming relief that makes me want to giggle and dance and do all the things I used to love doing before.

"Jesus, Bel," Alice says as she sits down, "look at those ribs! We've got to get some meat back on those bones, stat." Her voice is full of concern. I look down self-consciously at my body and notice that my bones are sticking out in places where they haven't before. I wonder if anyone else has noticed my awkward, skinny body and my eyes flick over to Edward, who hasn't heard our conversation.

Alice looks at me strangely, utilising her uncanny ability to read my face. I flop back into the deck chair and put my sunglasses on, using them as something of a shield. She rolls her eyes and strips out of her cute little playsuit, then stretches out on the chair.

"Hey Alice," Edward calls from his position. One of his hands is in the water, so he's slowly rowing himself around the pool. I jump slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, Edward," she responds just as casually, but I can feel her eyes on me as she rubs sunscreen into her legs. I busy myself with the iPod dock on the table between our chairs, choosing music and turning up the volume to make conversation more difficult.

Alice makes idle chitchat, talking about how eager everyone is to see me. I barely register her words in my haze. She then asks Edward a few questions, about his schooling and friends back home. I listen with rapt attention, trying to hear an undercurrent of what I'm feeling in his voice. He gives nothing away.

I'm about to go insane when Alice excuses herself and walks back to the house. She murmurs that she needs to pee, but I think she can feel the tension exuding from me and wants to give us a moment. As soon as she closes the back door, Edward slides out of his pool lounge and swims to the edge of the pool.

He places his hands on the ledge and pulls his body from the water with uncanny grace. His skin is covered in water, and he glistens with an almost ethereal air, as if he's glowing from the inside. He makes his way out of the pool and sits on the end of my chair. I curl my legs towards myself to give him some room.

"We should talk," he says, although his tone is hesitant.

"We should."

"You look… frightened. I'm sorry if I -"

"No," I cut him off before he can self flagellate as I know he's about to. "Don't apologise."

He relaxes now that he knows I'm not upset. A smirk lights his face.

"That was really…"

He trails off, his eyes distant.

He doesn't need to finish the sentence, I know exactly what he means.

"Yeah, it was." I nod slowly as the memory clouds over my brain.

"But… we're ok?" he clarifies, and his hesitance is back in full force.

"Of course we are." I'm surprised by his question. I've never felt better, and he's worried our bond has been damaged?

"Good." His smile returns and he reaches out for me. He wraps his hand around my ankle and forces me to extend my legs so that they're resting in his lap. He moves his fingers across the tops of my feet and up my calves in aimless patterns. I relax into the chair as the contentment seems to seep into my very bones.

I sigh happily.

"God, the sun feels fucking good," he murmurs.

"Tell me about it."

"It's probably the thing I missed most… after food, of course."

I feel myself starting to tense as he mentions our time away, but his hands on me stop me from scaling into full on panic. I respond with a weak laugh. It's the best I can do. I think he realises, because he lets the conversation die.

I don't know how long we sit there for, unmoving as we absorb the sun on our skin, the music, and each other's presence. It's so easy, so simple when there's no one in the world but us. It feels right.

As if I'd tempted fate with my thoughts, Alice bursts out of the door a moment later, jarring us both. Esme is following behind her, and they have matching expressions of excitement.

"Guess what?" my best friend crows.

"What, Alice?" She's panting slightly and almost giddy with happiness.

"I got chatting to Edward's mom," Esme's smile grows, "and we're going to have a party!"


	7. 7

"… Pardon me?"

I'm dumbfounded by what Alice has just said to me.

"Well," Alice starts, her voice placating as she notes our lack of enthusiasm, "all the people from school and stuff want to see you, and Edward's family and some of his friends want to see him, so we figured that we could have a small party here to celebrate…"

"That's a fucking terrible idea," Edward responds at once. "I can't think of anything I'd hate more than being surrounded by a bunch of vultures who just want information and to tell us how brave we are."

"Edward!" Esme cries. "Firstly, do not use that language in front of ladies! I raised you better than that, and you are not too old for me to take you over my knee."

I try hard not to laugh at the image of that.

"Secondly, your family and friends were worried sick about you when you were missing, and I think it would be nice for them to get a chance to see you. Lord knows I didn't believe you were safe until I saw it myself."

The last sentence affects me in a way their previous words did not. I know the terror of feeling like Edward is missing and not knowing if he is safe or not, and I would never want anyone else to feel that way.

"Bella, what do you think, sweetheart?"

"I think…" I look at Edward, trying to gauge just how opposed to this is he is. There is a resignation about him, as if he already knows that this is going to happen at some point.

"I think that it sounds nice. But, I have to ask that it's not too big, if that's ok."

Esme's face lights up, and Alice claps her hands together.

"Of course, Bella. Whatever you want or need, we'll do it. I was thinking a barbeque on the patio with our friends and family, maybe something in a pool party for you kids."

"Oh!" Alice cries, apparently inspired. "We can hang lanterns! I can see it now…"

Her and Esme drift into their own conversation about decorating and food while I focus my attentions on Edward. I lean forward so that my head is almost on his shoulder. His massaging on my legs has gotten firmer, so I can tell he's annoyed.

"Are you ok?"

He sighs.

"I just think this is a bad idea. Everyone's going to be talking about us, and asking questions, and I don't want you to go through that."

Of course he's making this about me.

"Edward, they're not expecting a press conference. They're worried about us, and maybe seeing us will help them feel better… and plus, it's going to be small, just close people. Esme and Alice want to do this, I think we should let them."

"Fuck what they want, I'm worried about you."

I wrap my fingers around his bicep, trying to sooth his irritation.

"I just think that they deserve to see us. I know what it's like to worry about you when you're not around, and that's only when it's for a few minutes or a few hours. They haven't seen you or known you're ok for _months_. I can't imagine that kind of stress."

He sighs.

"That's a fair point. But, we'll do this our way, yes?"

"Of course."

I turn back to Esme and Alice and smile. They look like they're about to start bouncing like excited puppies at our acquiescence.

"So when are you planning this?"I ask.

"Well, tomorrow is Friday, so I was thinking tomorrow night."

I hear Edward groan under his breath and fight back a smile.

"Ok… it will be small though?"

"Sure, not a problem," Alice chips in, then takes Esme's hand and leads her back to the house to lay their plans. I settle back into the chair and Edward falls sideways, his head resting on my thigh.

He exhales heavily, and I smile as I run my fingers through his soft hair.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he grumbles.

"It will be fine," I assure him. I feel his cheeks lift as he smirks.

"Stop stealing my line."

"You don't own it."

"… How much does it cost to copyright something?"

I laugh and allow myself to sink back into our bubble.

* * *

The house has a manic air about it on Friday. Edward and I try as hard as we can to just stay out of the way, so we spend a lot of the day in his room. Eventually, Alice drags me out, forcing me into my bedroom to be primped. She knows that I'm fully capable of doing it myself, but I suspect she wants to hang out, and this is the only way she can separate me from Edward.

I feel bad, but at the same time, I don't particularly like being away from him. I think she knows this, so she locks both doors to our shared bathroom so that he has no means of entering.

"So," she starts as she fluffs my hair yet again. Her voice has a smug quality that puts me instantly on edge. "What's going on?"

"We're getting ready for a party," I state dully.

"You know that's not what I mean," she huffs, tugging on my hair slightly harder than she needs to. "What's going on with you and Edward?"

"Nothing," I answer too quickly.

"Bullshit. Are you honestly telling me that you don't think he's hot? Because if you're not interested…" She trails off suggestively. I can't help the scowl that flashes across my face and she smiles.

"Relax, babe, I'm just kidding. Edward is so not my type. He's too brooding and volatile." My scowl deepens as she puts him down.

"Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Sure we can," she says cheerfully, ignoring my irritation. "Let's talk about whatever was going on between you two at the pool yesterday?"

"Alice, drop it."

"Bella…" her voice is serious now, all traces of teasing gone. "I know that… you've changed since it all happened, but we're best friends. We used to tell each other everything, and now I feel like I don't even know you."

"Maybe you don't," I snap without thinking. She steps away from me, her face stricken. I feel awful.

"Alice, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." I sigh and try to think of a way to explain this to her. "It's just… everything is different now. And I wish it wasn't. Believe me. You don't know how much I wish I could be like it was, and we could talk about boys and clothes and all the things we love."

My voice breaks.

"I'm trying to be normal, but I don't know how. I don't know _anything_. I'm frightened all the time, and I don't trust anyone but him. Emmett went to get a drink of water the other night and I thought someone was coming to take us again! I woke Edward up, and he nearly beat up his own little brother because of me!

"I know I'm a bad friend, and I'm trying to get better, I promise, but… it's hard, Alice. It's really, really hard." Tears are streaming down my face in earnest now, pulling my mascara with them.

"Sweetie," Alice coos as she wraps her arms around my shoulders from behind me. I feel both sickened and relieved after my purge. Sickened for revealing my weakness, but relieved to get even a fraction of my fears and concerns off my shoulders. Alice holds me until I calm myself, and then helps me fix my makeup.

We can hear the doorbell ringing and people moving about downstairs, so we dress and head down. Edward meets me at the top of the stairs, eying me like he can tell that I've been upset. Alice darts down, leaving the two of us alone. It feels like a pre-game team meeting.

"Are you ok?" he asks, and I feel his hand on the small of my back, as if he can somehow detect my lies using his touch.

I nod silently, because I will be, if he doesn't bring it up again.

He lets go of my waist and grabs my hand.

"And you're sure you want to do this?" he clarifies. I roll my eyes in feigned annoyance.

"Yes, Edward. Come on, your mother and Alice organised this for us, so let's try to enjoy it."

"There's an effort that'll fail before it starts," he grumbles and I elbow him in the ribs then start down the stairs. Our linked hands mean that he has to follow behind. He does so, but walks so slowly that I feel like I'm dragging him every step of the way.

We eventually make it out the back door, and as soon as I see the crowd, I stop in my tracks. Edward smacks into my back as I tighten my grasp on his hand to a near painful degree. I seriously consider running from the scene before us, but Esme sees us before I get the chance. I absently wonder just how much beige she owns.

"There you two are!" she cries, "I was wondering if you were ever going to arrive!"

As if on cue, the entire party turns to look at us. No one approaches though. I lean back into Edward and he places his free hand on the curve of my lower back, his fingertips digging into the fabric of my dress. I feel like a zoo exhibit.

I recognise some of the faces, Charlie is present with his girlfriend Sue, and some of my school friends are here. That said, the majority of the fifty-plus people are completely unknown to me.

Edward was right. This is a bad idea. I should have trusted him.

"It's ok," he murmurs in my ear. "We can do this. Just for a little while, and then we can go upstairs."

I almost sigh out loud when he mentions the idea of us going away and being alone.

"Come on, sweetheart," Esme says softly, and coaxes my stiff body away from Edward. I want to cry out to stop her, but I try to pull myself together. I throw him a panicked look over my shoulder. He nods, a silent reassurance then walks over to meet his father, who is standing by a grill laden with food with several other men. I say a quick hello to Charlie and Sue, who looks at me with concern and relief. She always was a lovely woman.

Alice skips over and takes my hand, then leads me to a group of familiar faces. My school friends. I struggle for a moment to remember their names. That part of my life feels so distant.

"Bella!" Jessica screams, then throws herself at me. Her arms wrap around me, and I pat her on the back with my free hand.

"Hey, Jess. How are you?"

She pulls back and looks me over appraisingly.

"I'm good… oh my god, you're thin!" She says it like I'm deserving of praise.

Alice gives her a dirty look and I fight hard against the desire to run back to Edward. My other friends take turns greeting me. Angela hugs me, more gently than Jess. Lauren gives me a somewhat sour look, and I'm not sure why she's even here. We never got along. It's probably curiosity more than anything. Mike, Eric and Tyler all wave but keep a cautious distance, for which I'm grateful.

I suspect Alice has given them a talk, because they regard me like I'm made of glass. It certainly feels that way. Jessica starts talking, and soon the others are absorbed in conversation like we're sitting around our table at lunch, and everything is exactly the same as it was.

I feel a little ill.

Sue's daughter Leah and her boyfriend Sam come over next. She pulls me away from the school crowd, and I realise that I'm probably not doing a good job of hiding how uncomfortable I am. She hugs me gently and tells me that if I need anything, she's just a phone call away. Sam smiles and reaches out to give me our usual fist-bump greeting. I hesitate, but return it, smiling involuntarily. The pair of them feel the most sincere of all the people I've spoken to tonight.

I look over to Edward, standing rigid and awkward with a group of men his father's age. He meets my eyes, and his expression is furious. I'm on edge at once.

"I'm sorry," I say to Leah and Sam, "I'll be back in a moment."

They smile and I walk quickly over to Edward, trying not to be too conspicuous. I reach him and take his hand, a silent gesture of comfort. I've seen this look on his face before, and it usually led to a beating. The thought of that terrifies me.

"Ah, so this is the girl!" A man with a southern accent gestures up and down my body with a beer bottle, spilling some of its contents in his enthusiasm. "She sure is a looker, Edward! Rather be stuck with her than someone who looks like a horse's ass! She's not 18 yet by any chance, is she?" He guffaws at his own joke. He is the only one laughing.

Edward's hand clenches around my own. I'm appalled, and feel my skin crawl under his gaze.

Carlisle clears his throat.

"Bella, this is Esme's brother, Alistair." I'm shocked that someone like this could be related to Esme.

He introduces the other men standing around. His younger brother, Liam, his brother in law, Garrett and Edward's grandfather, Ed Sr. The first two men wave and say hello, but Ed takes my free hand and bows slightly. I blush a little at the old fashioned gesture, and Alistair starts laughing loudly.

"She likes 'em old, ey? Maybe I'm in with a sportin' chance after all!" He finishes his beer and walks off, presumably looking for another.

Carlisle looks mortified.

"Bella, I can't apologise enough for that. Esme's brother is a little… unusual."

"It's fine," I say robotically. I turn to Edward, who looks murderous.

"Come on, Edward," I say, and after a moment, he looks at me. "Let's go inside and get a drink."

I tug him back into the house, knowing full well there's a drinks table outside. I walk him to the dining room, which is being used to house supplies for the evening. At least we're alone here. He's rigid, jaw clenched and shoulders stiff. I drop his hand and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"Hey."

He says nothing.

"Edward."

He finally looks at me.

"It's ok… really. It's fine." I move my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on it gently in a way that has soothed him in the past.

"It's not fucking fine," he growls. "I wanted to deck the motherfucker for saying that shit to you."

His propensity towards violence terrifies me.

"Please, please don't do that," I beg. Alistair is bigger than Edward, slightly taller with a solid pot belly and a thick build.

"So what, I just let him talk to you like that?" he growls.

"Yes." My voice is firm. "It's ok. He didn't hurt me… it was just really gross." I hide the extent of my discomfort because I know when Edward is like this, anything could set him off.

He exhales heavily, but loosens his posture a little, so I know he's calming down. I sigh with relief. His arms tentatively wrap around my waist and he pulls me to him, using my body to calm his rage, to reassure himself that I'm safe, and that he doesn't need to act like this. I do the same, relishing the feel of his body unwinding and relaxing.

After a few more minutes, we return to the party. Esme catches up with us, introducing me to everyone that comes within four feet of us. The majority are family members, and it seems that she has an unending list of siblings and their spouses for me to meet. Most are friendly, and only some regard Edward and I with open curiosity. I engage in as much small talk as I can, and Edward picks up the slack when I start to feel overwhelmed by the attention.

"I'm one of 6," Esme explains in between introductions.

"It took me the first 7 years of my life to get everyone's names down," Edward murmurs. "I still fuck it up every now and again." I laugh, causing Esme and one of her sisters to look at us questioningly.

He pulls me away and we take a moment to wander through the party and take a bit of a breather. I see Emmett playing in the pool with my Sue's son, Seth. This doesn't surprise me, because Seth's only a year younger than him, at thirteen. There's also a skinny blonde girl in the water. I laugh when she throws a football and hits Emmett square in the back of the head. She's in a one-piece swimsuit with her hair tied up, a tomboy if ever there was one.

"Rose," Edward calls and she looks up. "This is Bella."

"Hey, Bella!" she yells with an excited wave, just before Emmett tackles her under the water. A commotion ensues, and they both emerge a moment later, Rosalie on Emmett's back, pressing her fingers into his collar bones. Her long, gangly limbs are wrapped around him, and between the two of them, it's a mess of skinny awkward teen appendages flailing around.

"Uncle! Uncle!" he screams, and she giggles wildly. Seth watches, enthralled, and quickly throws himself into the melee.

"That's her," Edward says, and I smile. Emmett is watching on as Rosalie play fights with Seth, jealousy clear on his features. "Do you see what I mean about them now?"

"Absolutely," I agree. He's besotted with her.

Edward and I wander back up to the house in search of food. Before we reach the completely ridiculous spread Esme has put on, I hear a scream that pains me, like nails on a chalk board. Edward and I turn around to see a strawberry blonde running for us. I step out the way just as she hurls herself into Edward's arms and plants a firm kiss on his mouth. I take another step back.

"Edward!" she cries, then kisses him again. His arms are locked around her waist, supporting her, although he looks a little shell shocked. "God, I'm so glad you're safe! I rang and rang, but your mom said I couldn't come over until you were ready to see people! Ah! I'm so happy to see you! I missed you so much, I was so_ worried_!"

I've reached my limit, and the idea of being introduced to anyone else makes me feel ill. I walk back into the house and seek out the bathroom. I wash my face and look at myself in the mirror, trying to force back the panic.

_Of course he has a life outside you. Why are you over reacting like this? You're being a child. _I continue to berate myself until I hear someone knocking on the bathroom door. I abruptly realise I've been in here for an inordinate amount of time, and hastily wipe my face off and unlock the door.

Standing in front of it is Edward's uncle Alistair. He laughs, low and throaty, when he sees me.

"Well, lookee here," he says, his eyes darkening with something I can't bear to think about. "Fancy running into you."


	8. 8

Alistair extends an arm so he can lean on the wall, and in essence, trap me in the short corridor. I'd used the laundry bathroom, knowing that I would have more privacy there, and it seems to have backfired on me.

"Hello, Alistair," I say, trying hard to veil my fear. I can't look him in the eyes though, and the smirk on his face when I glance up makes me think that he can tell I'm frightened, and that he's enjoying it.

"You remember my name," he says proudly. "I'm glad I made an impression."

He laughs, too loudly, and I cringe.

"How are you enjoying the party, sweet thing?" I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. "You must be loving it, all the men looking at you and how pretty you are, jealous of my nephew because he gets to spend so much time with you. I know I am."

He reaches out and runs his hand down my bare arm. Panic consumes me, my vision blurs and suddenly, I'm not in the corridor with him anymore.

_I was sitting in the chair they always put us in when they had their fun. My hands were behind my back, my shoulders pulled in an uncomfortable angle. The blonde was circling around me, and I had no idea where the French man was. Every now and again, he'd reach out and trail his fingers across my skin, delighting in my attempts to flinch away and the sound of my whimpers. _

_"You are so lovely," he cooed in a raspy voice."So fucking sexy. I get hard just thinking about the things I could do to you, with you tied in this chair, just like that. God, the fun I could have."_

_He reached out and pinched my chin between his fingers, forcing my lips to pucker slightly. I forced my eyes to remain open, my expression to stay blank, because I refused to break down. He leaned in, close enough so I could smell him. I tried not to gag._

_"Look at those lips. You have cock-sucking lips, girl. Fucking gorgeous."_

_He'd never take it further than that, or try to touch me anywhere inappropriate. He just liked watching me panic, and wonder if this time might be the time that he did something. All I could do was sit there and try to block out his words and touches. _

"Don't touch me!" I yell, much too loudly. I yank my body backwards, bumping into the closed bathroom door behind me. I'm trapped.

"Hey now," Alistair persists, taking a step towards me with his arms raised. "No need to get all narky."

The rudimentary self-defence training seminar we received in sophomore year kicks in and I burst into action. My knee swings up and I shove it into his groin with as much force as I can muster. His body folds over, bringing his face within my reach, so I smash the heel of my hand into his nose. I hear a satisfying crunch and a loud groan as he falls to the floor.

Suddenly, I realise what I've done. I've retaliated, and I've hurt this man, who is Esme's family. I'm going to be punished savagely for this. I leap over his body and dart up the stairs as fast as I can, tears streaming down my face. I run into my room and slam the door violently. I fall to my knees, fumbling with the lock on my door, which won't seem to cooperate with my shaking hands.

Finally, _finally_, it clicks into place, and I crawl into the corner of the room, furthest away from the door, and my pending retribution. My legs are tucked up to my chest, so I'm as small and invisible as possible. I'm sobbing, my breathing so shallow and quick that I feel as if I'm suffocating. I try to calm myself, because silence will protect me, even if it is for a few more moments until they can find me.

The doorknob rattles, a sickening sound. Someone is here.

"Bella!"

I can hear Esme's voice.

"Bella!"

Carlisle now.

They must be so angry. I'm terrified. They're going to punish me brutally for this. I know I probably deserve it, but that does nothing to alleviate the fear. The rattling stops and I hear footsteps. They're leaving. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I've managed to avoid the inevitable, if only for a little while.

The door to the shared bathroom swings open then. I didn't think to lock it. I scream, both with surprise and with fear. I can't subdue myself.

"I'm sorry!" I shout desperately, in the vain hope that my apologies will lessen their anger. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry!" I continue crying out, begging for forgiveness and leniency, knowing it will do me no good. Esme starts coming towards me, and my pleas get louder, more panicked as she closes in.

I know I should just take whatever is coming to me, but freedom has weakened my resolve, made me vulnerable once again. I long for my mattress, for the disgusting bathroom and everything that used to make me strong. More than anything, I wish for Edward.

Carlisle takes Esme's arm and pulls her back slightly. Confusion breaks through the cloud of terror. Why is he doing this? He whispers something to her and she leaves the room.

"Bella," Carlisle says, holding his hands up, palms forward. My shaking becomes even more violent.

"I'm so sorry, Carlisle," I sob, "I didn't mean to hurt him. You have to believe me! Please!" My voice is getting hoarse, but I keep begging, because it's my only hope.

Esme returns, and I know it's about to start. I stop begging, but the screams and sobs are still coming strong, although I wish they wouldn't.

"Bella," Carlisle speaks again and I flinch like I've been tazed. "You have to calm down. You need to breathe. No one is going to hurt you."

When he lies to me, some deep anger is unleashed. I glare up at them, every fibre of hatred in me rising to the surface.

"I don't believe you," I spit. I'd heard that line too many times to count. When they say I won't be hurt, I end up hurt even worse than usual.

My anger evaporates when Edward steps into the room, panting and confused. Pure, unbridled terror takes its place when I see him. If he's here, he's going to try and take some of the punishment for me. I can't allow that.

"Get out!" I yell at him. "Edward, go!"

His face turns from confusion to horror.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" he says, looking at his parents with a violent expression. The same violent expression that used to get him in so much trouble.

"Get out!" I scream.

"Fuck that, Bella," he says and crosses the room to me. I'm a hysterical mess, shaking violently and covered in tears and snot. My throat feels like I've been swallowing razor blades, but I have to keep fighting. He leans down in front of me and I shove at him violently.

"Get out of here, you can't be here."

"And why the fuck is that, exactly?" he asks, his tone derisive.

"Because I won't let them hurt you. It was my fault. You can't… I won't let…"

Tears overwhelm me again, and breathing seems an impossible task. I'm gasping, pulling my hands through my hair and using my legs to kick at him, to try and force him from the room.

"Bella, they're my parents, " he says and kneels before me, grabbing onto my flailing legs to still them. "They're not going to hurt you. Why would they ever do that?" He turns to his parents. "Why the fuck does she think you're going to hurt her?"

"Don't speak like that to them," I hiss at him. "Don't get yourself in trouble as well. You need to leave."

"I don't know what happened!" Esme cries. "We found Alistair outside the laundry bathroom, his face covered in blood and what looked like a broken nose."

Edward's head swivels back to me, and he looks murderous.

"What the fuck did he do to you?"

"Nothing," I sob, "it was my fault. I shouldn't have… I just…" I look over at his parents. "I didn't mean to do it, I swear!"

"Fuck nothing," he growls, "tell me."

"He… he touched me, and I panicked and hit him."

I can hear Esme gasp from across the room.

"He touched you?" Edward stands up abruptly. "Where the fuck is he? I'll fucking kill him."

"No, no!" I cry and wrap my hands around his ankles to hold him in place. "He just touched my arm, but something… and I hit him! I didn't mean to, but I did, and I'm sorry, and I know how much trouble I'm in, but I didn't mean to! Please, you have to believe me!"

My eyes are darting between Edward and his parents as I ramble. Esme's hands are covering her mouth, so I can see nothing of her expression. Carlisle's jaw is clenched tight, just like Edward's. He looks angry, so I force myself back closer to the wall instinctively. Maybe if I push hard enough, it will swallow me.

"Edward," he addresses his son. "You stay here with Bella. I'll deal with this."

"No!" Edward shouts, and I flinch at the aggression. "This is my responsibility."

"No, son. Stay here." Carlisle swiftly walks back through the bathroom, Esme following behind. Edward sighs heavily and then looks down at me.

"Come here," he says, reaching down to scoop me up in his arms. He places us down on the bed, but holds onto me. He spreads his legs and I rest between them, my head against his chest while I sob. He fiddles with my hair with one hand, the other resting on my knee.

"I didn't mean to do it," I blubber over and over again. "You know I didn't mean it. I'd never... I'd never!"

"I'm fucking glad you did. At least one of us got to make him bleed, even if it wasn't me. I'm so proud of you, baby."

"I just… he touched me, and I started thinking about… and I snapped. I kicked him in the crotch and hit him in the face. I didn't know what I was doing!"

"You got him in the balls?" Edward laughs, his voice coarse and reflecting his stress. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

I shake my head against his chest, blown away by how cavalier he's being about this.

"I'm just sorry I wasn't there when this happened. It's my job to keep you safe, and I fucked it up. I didn't even know where you went."

"You looked busy so I just went to the bathroom. He found me on my way out."

An uncharacteristically awkward moment passes between us as I try to regulate my breathing.

"I'm never busy when it comes to you. Especially when some asshole is putting his hands on you."

"You didn't know it was going to happen. You were talking to your friend, so I walked off. It was my stupid fault for going to the bathroom so far from the party."

Edward tenses again.

"Do you think he followed you?"

"No," I say hastily, because I can't deal with that possibility. "It was just bad timing. Really, I made a big deal of nothing. He just touched my arm and I freaked out."

The hand on my knee clenches into a fist.

"No, you didn't make a big deal of nothing. He shouldn't ever have fucking touched you."

I pull on his fist, lifting it and loosening his fingers. I can feel the calming effect of contact with him warring with the instinctual panic still flowing through my veins. It's somewhat dulled, but still present.

"I'm fine. I just… Esme must be so angry with me."

"Of course she's not. She's devastated that anyone would upset you like that."

"It was my fault," I repeat again.

"No, it fucking wasn't." His voice is firm, so I let it go, because I've completely lost the energy to struggle over this anymore. I play with his hand and he plays with my hair in silence for a while.

"About the girl…" He trails off, sounding a little nervous, and very un-Edward.

"You don't have to explain anything to me," I say quickly, loosening my grip on his hand. I don't really want to hear about her right now. Or ever.

"No, I do," he insists. "She was… well, we were… involved a few times before everything happened." It takes me a moment to realise what those words mean, and once I do, I wish that I didn't.

"Ok…" I say when he doesn't continue, because I'm confident there's more to the story, and I'm perversely intrigued.

"Apparently, she thought that I was interested in more than that with her, and since I've been gone, she's been trying to pick up the role of worried girlfriend. Something she most definitely is not."

"Oh."

"So… yeah. That's the story behind her. I'm sorry if her theatrics made you uncomfortable earlier, and I'm so fucking sorry that I wasn't there for you because I was dealing with that bullshit."

"It's fine."

"No, it's really fucking not."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Now that the fear has receded, I'm angry. Angry that she acted like that, angry that he seemed receptive at the time, and angry that I didn't know any of this prior to now. Not to mention angry, frightened, and devastated by what transpired with Alistair.

I move away from his body and lie down on my bed, facing away from him. "I'd like to sleep."

"Ok…" His voice is nervous, and it doesn't suit him at all. "Do… do you want me to stay?"

"No," I respond quickly. "You have guests to keep entertained."

"Fuck them, I'll stay here if you want me to," he offers.

A long pause fills the room with almost suffocating tension.

"I don't."

There is silence. I feel the bed shift as he climbs off it, and hear the sound of his shoes hitting the tiled bathroom floor. Although I asked him to leave, the dull ache I always feel when he's not around resonates in my chest. I can't reconcile my irrational anger with my equally irrational need to have him around at all times.

"Edward?" I call, and hear his quick footfalls as he walks back towards me.

"Yes?"

His voice is hopeful. I don't look at him.

"Can you ask Alice to come here?"

"Oh." The hope is gone. "Alright, sure."

"Thanks," I murmur and push my face further into my pillow. I'm praying that the comfort Alice brings me will help to substitute the relief only Edward can offer.

He leaves the room and the tears start falling. My face stings as the salt water assaults them, still red and tender from my previous crying jag. The confusion is dizzying. I can't understand why I'm so upset, why that girl being anywhere near Edward makes me want to smack her in her beautiful face. I'd always thought my feelings towards Edward were merely protective, but this makes me think that perhaps they're out of control.

He's not mine. Not anymore. Since we left the room our bond has been fading, and every day we spend out in the world, the string that ties us together loosens a bit more.

The very idea of that makes breathing seem impossible.

"Bella, honey?"

Alice is here. I roll over so I can look at her, and he faces crumples with sympathy when she takes me in, curled up in a ball, sobbing like a child on my gigantic, overdressed bed.

I'd give anything for my mattress.

"Oh, Bella," she coos softly and doesn't hesitate to get in beside me. She reaches out for my hands, knotted together against my chest, and unwraps them, taking them in hers.

"I'm going to lose him," I choke out.

"No, you're not," she says firmly. I ignore her.

"I am! He's back at home now, with his family and his friends and his life and the beautiful girl who wants to be his girlfriend! How can I ever compete with that? He's everything I have Alice, I can barely breathe without him in the room, and I'm losing him. What am I going to do?"

"Bella, you need to listen to me," she says lowly, "you aren't going to lose him. What you two went through will bond you for life, and -"

"It's not enough!" I cry, cutting her off. "There's no reason for him to want me around now that he's back with the people he cares about, and chooses to be around. If anything, I'm an unwanted reminder of what we went through, clinging to him and holding him back from getting on with his life!"

I feel a sharp sting on my exposed cheek. I gape at Alice, completely shocked that she'd hit me.

"I'm sorry," she apologises quickly, "but you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" I ask darkly. It doesn't seem that irrational to me. I can't bridge the two sides of me; the one that knows I should let him go, and the one that keeps telling me that I'll die if we're separated.

"Yes, you are. You would never ditch him, right?"

"Of course not." I'm offended she even needs to ask.

"So why do you assume that he wants to ditch you as well?"

I sigh deeply. The tears have yet to stop streaming down my face, and I'm feeling light-headed and completely exhausted.

"How could he not?" My words are a whisper, near silent as I fight against the exhaustion.

She gives me a withering look. I try to frame words, to explain my fear and my insecurities, but I can't. I need him so much, and I can't fathom that he could possibly depend on me with the intensity that I do him.

"I'm going to lose him, Alice." My eyes are closed, and I'm resigned, although I don't know how I'll cope when it happens.

"Bella, stop this now."

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Bella."

"No. I want to sleep now."

Alice sighs, hugs me quickly and climbs off the bed. I'm finally as alone as I feel. I let my fear consume me, feel it claw at my insides in an attempt to break me completely. I wallow in the feeling, making no attempt to console or distract myself as it rips through me over and over. Sleep evades me, despite my tiredness. This feels almost fitting, just another layer of discomfort for me to deal with.

I don't know how much time passes as I lay there, giving myself over to the agony coursing through my veins. Without warning, the mattress beneath me moves, and I'm too tired to even open my eyes and see who's abruptly so close.

I don't care.

An arm slides over my waist and I'm pulled into a hard chest. Calm floods through me, so strong and overwhelming that I can't contain it. My hands dig into his t-shirt and my face presses into his chest as the tears restart. His arms wind around me, holding me to him and I feel his lips on my forehead.

"Shhhh," he coos, barely audible. "Just sleep. It's ok now. I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere."

They are the last words I hear before sleep takes me at last.

**AN: Betcha didn't see that shitstorm of insanity coming, huh?**

**Leave me love, and twitter me up - netrasexual.**

***smooch***


	9. 9

**Edward POV**

I'd known from the fucking beginning that having a party was a fucking stupid idea, but no one fucking listened, did they?

Listening to my uncle Alistair saying that disgusting shit to her was bad enough on its own, and if he hadn't been my mother's brother, I would have taught him a fucking lesson about speaking to women like that right then and there. Using my fists, most likely.

And then Tanya happened.

She tackled me and started kissing my face, forcing me to remove my hand from Bella's when she threw her body on me. I'd pushed her off, placing her back on her teetering heels. I was pretty fucking generous with her, considering I kind of wanted to just throw her ass on the floor, where she belonged.

"Tanya, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I've just missed you so much, I got a little overexcited." She giggled, but it sounded practiced and contrived. Completely unnatural. Just like the hair extensions, lip gloss, solarium tan, and surgically pinned back ears.

"Why would you possibly be that excited?"

"Because my boyfriend survived a near death experience and is back again! Duh!"

I choked on a mouthful of air when she called me her boyfriend. Sure, we'd fooled around a few times, but we had never even gotten close to anything like that. I pushed her away from me and informed her that she was not, in fact, my girlfriend.

"But, Edward… do you know what this has been like for me? I've been so, so worried about you! I like you so much, and we've been so good together in the past! How can you even say this to me?" Her voice rose in pitch, getting increasingly hysterical and irritating. "You can't just dump me now! You're all traumatised, you probably don't even know what you're saying. I can help you get better, I can fix you!"

That was where my patience ran out.

"Tanya," I spat, "you were never my girlfriend, and you're embarrassing yourself. Stop this now."

"So what," she sneered. "You just used me? You lead me on, making me think you were into me, when you just wanted head in the back of your car?"

I was barely in control of my anger now, and she refused to relent. People around had stopped their conversations to listen to ours, and I was quickly reaching the point of no return.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" she continued. "You can't just fuck with me like that! We were going to be together!"

"When did I ever say that?" I asked, then lowered my voice. "Don't do this here. You knew what the deal was, Tanya."

"Well… it doesn't matter! It was implied that you were going to make me your girlfriend when we fucked around in the janitor's-"

Suddenly, my mother ran out onto the patio, her expression panicked and her eyes darting around, looking for something. She came straight for me and grabbed onto my arm.

"Edward, I need you to come upstairs. Now."

"No!" Tanya cried. "We need to talk! You can't take him yet. Whatever it is, it can wait."

My mother shot her a look dirtier than I would have thought her capable of.

"Tanya," she said lowly, "if you have a problem with how I behave in my own home, then you are absolutely welcome to leave. And, if you're ever invited back, which seems unlikely at this point, please put on a skirt that covers your shame when you're jumping around like a monkey."

Tanya stood, awestruck, as my mother pulled me from the backyeard. I was sorely tempted to give her a high five, but there was obviously a more pressing matter at hand.

My mother darted up the stairs at a bizarre speed, especially considering her size and shoes. She ducked into my bedroom with me quick on her heels, and then I could hear screams that I would recognise anywhere on earth. I stopped in my tracks, and Esme looked over her shoulder at me.

"Come on!" she cried, so I followed her into Bella and my shared bathroom and through to Bella's room. What I saw there nearly floored me.

Bella was curled up in a ball in the corner of her bedroom, screaming and sobbing and apologising for something. When she saw me, she panicked more, begging for me to get out of the room. I almost laughed at the idea that I'd leave her like this. I crossed the room and she started kicking and shoving at me, insisting that I had to get out.

Between her garbled words and my mother's explanation at finding Alistair bloody and incapacitated, we were able to deduce what happened. The motherfucker had tried to put his hands on her, and she'd simply defended herself. Obviously, in her panicked state, she didn't realise there was no way on earth that my parents would ever punish her for doing that.

I wanted to go down there and punish Alistair, to make sure he'd never lay hands on anyone ever again, specifically by tearing his fucking arms off, but Carlisle stopped me. He used the only argument that could possibly have worked, telling me that Bella needed me here. I pushed my anger aside and pulled her off the floor, settling her little body against mine on her bed. We talked about it, and I'd never been prouder than when she told me she'd kicked the fucker in the balls. It helped me feel a little better about being unable to hurt him myself. However, knowing it was Tanya's bullshit that caused her to wander off on her own just made me hate the girl more.

I felt strangely obligated to explain the Tanya situation to Bella, but when I did, she'd shut down completely. When she asked me to leave the room, I could hardly believe it. We'd always leaned on each other whenever we were going through anything. God knows I'd done it after the colossal fuckup with Emmett earlier in the week. But now, it seemed, she wanted Alice instead. I knew it was irrational and really selfish, but that shit hurt.

I found Alice talking to a bunch of kids my age who I didn't recognise, and assumed were Bella's school friends.

"Edward!" she cried as she ran over to me. "You have to meet everyone!" She linked her arm through mine and started towards the group. I stopped walking, making it impossible for her to lead me, being so much smaller than me as she was.

"Alice, I need you to come upstairs," I said quietly, aware of the five sets of eyes on us. Alice's expression dropped.

"Is it Bella?"

I nodded and she quickly followed me inside without another word. I sent her into Bella's room, took a seat at the top of the stairs and waited for a sign that Bella would be ok. I sure as fuck wasn't going back to the party, and I was more than a little angry at her for suggesting it.

So here I am, sitting here like a fucking moron in the vain hope that she forgives me. It's not like I deserve her forgiveness. A moment arrived where she fucking needed me, and I was fending off some delusional skank instead of being there to fulfil my only responsibility in the world.

I'm not even sure I can forgive myself, so why the fuck would she do it?

After a while, Alice comes out of the room looking defeated. She flops down next to me on the step, sighing.

"You have to go in there."

"I can't. She told me she didn't want me."

"She lied, Edward. She thinks you're going to leave her, that you're going to go back to your old life and not want her around as a reminder of what happened to you both."

I say nothing, because I'm unable to fully process those words. The idea that I'd ever push Bella out of my life is completely ridiculous. I need her, and her presence, more than anything else in the world. I'm angry, and really fucking hurt, that she'd even think that. That she'd underestimate me, and her hold on me, to such a disgraceful extent.

"Did she actually say that?" I asked, trying to veil my annoyance. Alice nodded.

"Well fuck that," I growl and jump off the step. I storm through my bedroom and our bathroom, fully intending to give her a serious telling off for being so stupid. That is, until I see her on the bed. She's curled in on herself, covered in tears and completely broken. Her eyes are closed but she's not sleeping, she's far too tense.

I sit down on the bed and although her eyelids flutter, she doesn't even look to see who it is. A small part of me thinks that she can tell without looking, and I smile, just a tiny bit, despite everything. I lie back and reach for her, pulling her little body against mine and holding her there. Her tears start again, but she snuggles further into me, clutching me almost desperately. I let her get it out, speaking softly to her, assuring her that I'm not going anywhere, and I never will.

How she could ever think otherwise, I'll never know.

I hold her while she sleeps, just staring at her peaceful face. Looking at her now, I wonder how I ever thought that Tanya was appealing. And how Bella could ever think that I'd rather have Tanya in my life than her. She really has no concept of how indispensible she is, and I feel like I've failed her yet again. It's one of the most fundamental truths in my life, and she doesn't even know how important she is.

I feel like any way I explain it will just fall short. How could I possibly describe my inherent need to make sure she's safe and happy, my desire to have her constantly within reach, how her touch calms me like nothing else, how my heart rips in half when I see her even remotely unhappy? I'd give her the world if I could, and she doesn't even know.

I'd give her my soul, if she didn't already have it.

How can I tell her that without scaring her away?

I lie there, her tiny body wrapped around me, thinking about my life, and how much better it is now. Despite how we met, and what we went through, seeing a snapshot of my old life tonight made me realise that she's improved me on every level. Instead of being a self-centred, juvenile asshole, I now have someone who means more to me than my own immediate gratification. Someone I'd protect with my own life.

It's a heady, overwhelming thing, and for a while, I drown in it, mulling over the thoughts as they circle around and around in my head. She shifts and moans, a slightly restless sound, so I run my fingers through her soft hair and try to help her settle as I attempt to make sense of it all.

"Edward," she sighs in her sleep, culring her fingers into my shirt. My eyes snap to her face, thinking I've woken her, but she's still asleep, smiling softly. Suddenly, all the confusion in my head clears, and I understand.

I fucking love her.

What I'd thought was simply dependence, a desire to protect her unleashed by what we went through, wasn't it at all. From the day I'd met her, I'd been falling for her, and only now have I figured it out.

A shocked laugh escapes my mouth, but I quickly return to silence, because I don't want to wake her after all of the stress of the day. She needs her rest, and I need a little while to process my discovery.

Now that I understand, I'm a bit surprised it took me so long to realise it. Actually, I'm almost embarrassed. Looking down at the sleeping girl resting her head on my chest, I can't believe I didn't recognise it immediately. I feel my whole body starting to relax now that my mental turmoil has come to an end. I kick off my shoes and use my foot to pull up the blanket resting on the end of the bed. I drape it over us both and allow sleep to take me.

* * *

I wake up the next morning with Bella still wrapped around me and a smile on my face. I bask in the happiness for a short moment, until confusion and insecurity settle over me. I now understand what's going on, but that by no means gives me any idea as to how to handle this new information. As much as I'm sure of my feelings, I'm completely unsure of hers. I know that she feels bonded to me, but whether or not it extends beyond that is a mystery to me.

Essentially, I'm fucked.

I can feel her stirring, her fingers flexing after being wrapped in my shirt all night. She twists her head to look at me, blinking sleepily with a small smile. She's perfect.

"G'morning," she mumbles, rubbing her face with the heel of her hand.

"Hello." I love you.

"So… I'm sorry about last night's insanity."

"Don't apologise, you didn't do anything." I love you.

"You're way too forgiving."

"There's nothing to forgive." Because I love you.

She smiles at me again and then sits up. She runs her fingers through her hair, cringing as she feels the knotted mess, and I can't stop smiling like a fucking idiot.

"You're awfully cheerful this morning," she notes with a speculative look. I shrug and try to look casual. She eyes me for a moment longer and then shrugs too. She climbs off the bed and walks to our bathroom, closing the door behind her. I hear the shower running and flop back onto the bed, trying to calm myself down so I can try to behave like a normal person around her.

I drift in a state between sleep and consciousness until I hear the bathroom door reopen. I sit up only to see Bella walk through the room clad only in a towel. Her long hair is almost black with wetness and flowing down her back, and small drops of water catch the light from the window and light her skin in the most alluring of ways.

All rational thought escapes me.

After what feels like an eternity but isn't close to long enough, Bella clears her throat. I blink harshly to clear my muddled thoughts, and meet her eyes. She's smirking at me, amused by my idiocy.

"Can you get out? I have to change."

"Oh…" I mumble. "Uh… yeah, of course. I'll see you at breakfast." I scurry from the room.

"Hold on!" she calls, and I pause in my doorway.

I refuse to look at her again. I won't do it.

I do it.

She's just as glorious this time. Probably even more so, if that's possible.

"Hmm?" I ask, trying to pretend I'm capable of conversation. Or rational thought.

"Can you wait for me? I don't want to go down on my own."

"Oh… yeah, sure thing. Meet me in here and we'll go."

She smiles at me then closes her bedroom door, shutting me out. This is probably best, because there's no way I'd be able to stop myself from looking at her. I absently change and then clean my teeth, moving about with almost no attention on my actions. One thought resonates through my head over and over.

What the fuck do I do now?

**AN: You asked for Edward, and I delivered. I hope you liked hearing what he had to say!**


	10. 10

I wake the next morning to a face full of Edward's chest. And then a lot of awkwardness when I get out of the shower to find him still in my room. Breakfast is awkward as well, between Carlisle's strange looks and silence, Edward's weirdness, and Esme's overzealous attempts to diffuse the tense atmosphere with inane chitchat. Emmett and Jasper are conspicuously absent, and I suspect that they have been told not to be here.

I feel awful for what I did last night, but I'm not sure if bringing it up will make things better or worse. Eventually, Carlisle speaks up.

"We need to have a serious discussion. Edward, I need you to be rational about this, because you're not going to curse and yell your way out of anything."

My heart drops into my stomach. Edward's eyes narrow at his father, so I reach out for his hand under the table. It flinches slightly on contact, but he twines our fingers together a second later.

"Ok," Edward says, making no attempt to hide his irritation, "what do you need to talk about?"

"I know that we told you both that we were willing to put off seeking treatment for you until you said you were ready, but after the events of this week, I really don't think we can put it off any longer. It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to avoid your issues, particularly when it seems to be affecting others in a negative light."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Edward spits. "So we have to go to a fucking shrink because mom's pervy brother tried to touch Bella up and she defended herself? What the fuck is that about?"

"Edward," Carlisle states in the same even, detached voice from before. "I'm not saying that Bella wasn't entitled to defend herself, because she absolutely was."

"Bella," Esme interrupts, putting her hand on my free one. "I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for yesterday. My own brother… I never, ever thought he'd do that, or I wouldn't have brought him here, I swear it. I can't apologise to you enough sweetheart, I'm so embarrassed." She looks stricken, and I feel terrible for her.

"It's not your fault, Esme. Please don't feel bad about it."

"So if that's ok, what exactly is the fucking problem?" Edward refuses to be distracted from the topic at hand.

"The way that Bella responded to us after what happened made it abundantly clear that she doesn't feel safe here."

"Carlisle, I -" I start. He cuts me off with a raised hand and a small smile.

"Bella, I'm not condemning you, nor am I offended by what happened in your bedroom last night. It's completely natural, considering what you've been through. But, just as Edward reacted so strongly to Emmett earlier this week, it is apparent that the pair of you have some serious issues, to the point where you don't feel safe in your own homes. I'm sorry, but that's not good for you, and I can't allow it go on, or worse, deteriorate further. You need help."

Edward says nothing, because Carlisle is right. I feel absolutely awful. We're making life so hard for the people we live with, and that thought makes me sick. I hang my head and try to fight back the guilty tears that threaten to spill.

"Bella, honey, don't go crying now. We're not angry at you, we're just real worried." Esme's motherly words, ridiculous accent and reassuring pat of my hand push me over the limit, and I start quietly sobbing. Edward is looking down at the table, his face frozen and completely ambivalent.

"Edward?" Carlisle prompts. He gets no response. "Son, we just want you, and Bella, to be happy and healthy again."

Abruptly, Edward is out of his chair. It falls backwards, hitting the tiled kitchen floor with a sickening crack. He tries to let go of my hand, but I won't let him. Not now. His gaze flicks to me and I stand immediately, letting him drag me from the room. He pulls me up the stairs and back to his room. He slams the door shut and shakes his hand from mine forcefully. It hurts that he shook me off, but I accept it and sit down on the end of his bed. My eyes are locked on him.

He paces around the room, staring at the floor. There's no pattern to his pacing, it's erratic and aggressive, and his fingers tear at his hair. I sit there, crying silently as he walks.

"I don't know what to fucking do," he murmurs. His voice is barely audible, but I focus on his words, even if they are meant only for himself. "I fucked it all up."

"Edward, no -"

He only then seems to realise he's not alone. His eyes snap to mine and he crosses the room, collapsing to his knees before me. He places his hands on my knees, his grip almost uncomfortably firm.

"I don't know what to do here, Bella," he says desperately. "You have to tell me. I hurt my little fucking brother and I couldn't even protect you from Alistair last night. We're not fucking safe anywhere, and even when I try to make you safe, I fuck it up. And I know you don't want to see a shrink - neither do I - but I've fucked it all up and now… you have to help make this right."

I look down at him, awed. He looks so defeated, so panicked. Hopeless. His body is trembling and his eyes are wide.

"Edward," I sob, "I don't know what to do. I want to help, but I can't."

"Bella, please," he begs, his grip on my legs tightening to a painful extent. "Tell me how I can fix this. I need to make it better. You have to help me make it better."

I gaze at his face, so innocent as he pleads for help from me. Help that I can't give. I just want to take away his pain. Seeing him like this feels like I'm being burned alive, and my insides are screaming in protest at the pain.

There must be something I can do to make us better.

My body reacts instantly to my desperate internal plea, and I lean forward and press my mouth to Edward's, a completely unplanned action.

He stills completely. I pull back when I get no response, crushed that my only idea to help sooth him failed. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to mine. His face looks dead, completely void of emotion. It's horrifying.

Without warning, he pushes up off his knees and crushes his mouth back to mine. My hands fall to the bed behind me, supporting my torso as we kiss aggressively, all of our stress and fear and despair falling to the wayside. He pushes me backwards and I edge towards his headboard, him following behind me. Our lips remain locked together. My hands are still behind me, holding me in an upright position, until his hands come down on top of them. He links our fingers together and pulls them from under me. My head falls back on the pillow and he follows. Our teeth knock together as my head bounces slightly on the pillow.

My left hand is beside my head, locked tightly with his. My right is free, and roams up his back and locks into his hair. His free hand slides it down my thigh and pulls gently, hitching my leg over his hip. I shudder as his hand trails up and down the skin of my leg, and he groans. His tongue flicks my lip and I open my mouth, willingly inviting him in. My hand is knotted tightly in his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp in no particular rhythm.

He pulls his mouth from mine, only to drop it to my neck. His breathing is ragged, and matches mine.

"How do you make it all go away?" he asks, his voice husky and desperate and unbelievably alluring. My fingers tighten on his scalp and he hisses. His mouth is drifting up and down my throat and collar bones, pressing down occasionally, small licks and nips in between the feather light brushes. His slight stubble only increases my sensitivity. It's the best sort of agony, him exploring me like this while I'm pinned below him, surrounded completely.

"You make it all fade away, and I don't know how you do it," he growls. "How do you do it?"

"You do it for me too," I choke out, my voice breathy and ragged. "It's all better when you're with me."

"How can I need you so much?" He returns his face to mine, kissing me harshly. He keeps his eyes open and holds eye contact as he speaks and kisses me. "I need you -"

"Like air," I supply for him, leaning my head up to join our mouths.

"Yes," he groans and pushes back against me, forcing my head back into the pillow. His tongue twines with mine and I use my legs to pull him ever closer to me. My dress has ridden up to near my waist, but modesty is completely lost at this point. All I want is for him to consume me, to absorb me into him so that I never feel anything but this ever again.

We're aggressive to the point of violence, grinding against each other as our tongues fight for dominance. I bite his bottom lip roughly and he groans, the round raspy and completely captivating. I moan in response and his hand trails over from my hip to my stomach, tracing the skin there with his fingertips. I can barely think.

He thrusts his hips towards me, his jeans covered crotch rubbing against mine. My legs are locked around his waist, and I'm completely exposed to him like this. I cry out softly into his mouth, and he takes this as positive reinforcement, shifting his lower body against me again.

I tilt myself to maximise the level of contact, moving my pelvis just so that when he pushes against me, it hits me exactly where I need him to. He grunts lowly, his mouth still firmly attached to mine. I'm completely unhinged, dizzied and calmed and lifted by being with him this way. I've never felt anything like this.

"You feel so fucking good under me," he murmurs, pressing kisses all over my jaw and throat as he continues to grind against me. "You make me feel like none of it ever happened, like nothing exists. It's just you and me, and it's fucking perfect."

I moan in agreement as he starts rubbing his body against my panties, prolonging the contact. My eyes roll backwards as the feeling begins to take control.

"Tell me you'll never leave," he growls, his tone both authoritative and pleading.

"Never," I moan, hoping that he believes me.

"Promise me." He nips at my jaw with his teeth.

"I promise - ah!" I cry out as he hits a particularly lovely place. My hand tightens in his hair, scratching patterns and trailing over his scalp.

My body begins to tighten and it curves towards him involuntarily. I feel like his hand locked with mine and his body hovering over me are the only things holding me to the earth.

Then, the only thing that could possibly break through our bubble strides into the room.

"Hey Edward, I heard things went pretty badly with the - holy mother of fuck."

Both of our heads snap to the doorway, where Jasper is standing with his hands locked firmly over her eyes.

"I'm sorry!" he says quickly, and backs out of the doorway. "I won't say shit, I promise."

Edward climbs off me, sitting back on his heels, his legs between mine. He runs his hands through his hair and down his face, sighing heavily. I'm still on my back, panting a little and completely shell-shocked.

"Shit."

His curse hangs in the air.

Neither of us say anything for the longest time, and I'm in agony. I pull my body up so that I'm leaning against the headboard, and pull down my dress then comb at my hair, trying to right myself.

"We should talk," I finally murmur. He meets my eyes, finally, but doesn't respond. I immediately lose my resolve and change the subject, although it's not much better. Honestly, I haven't begun to process what has just passed between us, and I'm in no state to discuss it until I've thought it through.

"What are we going to do about the counselling?" I ask him. For a second, he looks confused, clearly surprised by the topic.

"What option do we have?" he questions morosely.

"I don't know. I'm so sorry, Edward."

His eyebrow curves questioningly.

"What are you sorry for?"

"If I'd behaved like a normal person yesterday, none of this would be happening." This is my fault.

He leans into me, placing his hands on my knees and forces me to look into his green eyes.

"Don't you apologise to me. This is not you're fucking fault. How you reacted yesterday was completely fucking normal, so stop that now. I damn near strangled my 14 year old brother, and that's why this is happening."

I don't want to bring that back up, because honestly, he would never have done had I not run into his room panicking about a supposed intruder.

"It doesn't matter now," I say softly. "We're out of options."

He sighs and leans away from me, but I grab his hands to hold them in my own. A tingle radiates up my arm, something more than the normal comfort he provides with me. I look at our joined hands curiously, as if I can somehow see whatever it is that's making me feel this way. Needless to say, I can't.

"Well," he sighs, "at the very least we can make sure we can do this our way. For example, I'm not fucking doing it without you."

I nod in fervent agreement, because the idea of rehashing it all on my own makes me feel sick.

"And if the doctor is a douche bag or a fucking hippie, we're out of there."

I giggle quietly at his words. I feel a little better already.

"Agreed," I say seriously, and a smirk lights his face. It's a little bizarre how us having a few minutes alone can restore us from the point of a complete breakdown back to normal. Bizarre, but at the same time, completely natural.

And the kissing… when we were together like that, it felt like nothing fucked up had ever happened to us, like we were normal again. I'm starting to realise that the closer we're linked together, the more comfort we get. The compulsions I have towards him seem to be deepening, because rather than just being contented with holding his hands now, all I can think about is how much better I felt with his body hovering over mine, and his lips trailing up and down my skin.

I'm like a heroin addict who is trying to replace the rush of a hit with a sugar high.

Abruptly, I feel awful. I'm shamelessly using him, this boy who's given me so much, taken so much pain so that I might be spared, brought me and my bag of crazy into his home with his family. I'm mercilessly exploiting his generosity, and what's worse, with everything he gives me, I want more from him.

I'm a parasite, draining everything he has to offer for my own selfish ends.

My face falls, my chin meeting my chest and I try to stave off more tears. He lets go of one of my hands and places it on my jaw, pushing gently in an effort to regain eye contact. I won't allow it.

"Hey," he says quietly, "what's wrong?"

I hear and feel the bed move as he comes closer to me. The hand on my face is now wrapped around my shoulders, and I can feel the heat of his body ensconcing my left side. Without realising it, I lean into him.

"Talk to me, Bella."

His tone is laced with so much concern, and I'm powerless to deny him.

"I'm frightened," I confess. He tenses slightly in response to my fear, because all he wants to do is protect me.

He's my hero.

"What are you frightened of?"

Reluctantly, I meet his eyes. I'm frightened in an entirely unfamiliar way.

"How much I need you."


	11. 11

He stares at me for what feels like an eternity.

"But… why would that frighten you?" he asks, confusion and insecurity in his voice.

I take a deep breath and let the deluge burst forth.

"Because you're going to get better, and you won't need me anymore. You won't feel the need to have me around, and you'll move on. I'd never resent you for that. But I won't.

"I'll always need you, need to know where you are and if you're safe and I'll need you when I'm frightened and I can't sleep because I miss our mattress even though it sucked. When I'm freaking out over nothing and screaming in the corner because I'm completely fucked up. I'll need to be the one who knows you better than anyone else, the one you can trust even though we can't trust anyone anymore, the only person who can kiss you better when you're angry and nothing else will help. "

I'm speaking at a ridiculous speed, pulling my fingers through my hair and wringing my hands together.

"I _need_ you, but I'm sucking you dry, Edward. I lean on you, and take so much from you, and the idea of you leaving scares me to death. I just want you to stay here, in this room with me, forever! What kind of person does that make me?"

He slowly raises his hands, wrapping his fingers around my wrists and forcing me to settle.

"Bella," he states lowly and I hesitantly meet his eyes. I've probably scared him off for good, now that my insanity has come to light.

"I don't think you understand that_ I fucking need you too_. I need to sleep with you beside me so I'm sure you're safe, I need you around to diffuse the constant paranoia with your smile and your smell that is so lovely but I can't figure out and your tiny little hands in mine. I need you to talk about the shitty mattress and make crappy jokes because it's the only thing that can distract me from whatever the fuck being taken has brought out in me.

"You think that you're taking things from me? You're wrong. Everything I give you, you give me straight back. You offered yourself up to them so that they wouldn't hurt me, even though you knew it would piss me off. You washed blood off my face, you ate that fucking burger in the hospital because my mom looked sad, you moved into my house so we could sleep at night!"

"My jokes are not crappy," I pout. He bursts into laughter, his body shaking with the force of it. I giggle, just happy to see him looking so happy. Eventually, he calms himself and continues.

"You do know me better than anyone else. I do trust you more than I could ever trust anyone else. And believe me when I say that you are the only person I want kissing me when I'm acting like a fucking serial killer, even though you're the only one who ever would. You're the only one I want kissing me at all, to be perfectly honest."

My eyes drop to the comforter and my heart lurches in a strange way when he says that. He squeezes my hands gently and I look at him, although I can feel my cheeks reddening.

"It's not about getting better and leaving you, Bella. That couldn't be further from the truth. It's about us moving on with our lives together. I want to get better for you, not despite you. I don't want you to have to worry about my outbursts or to feel obligated to hang around in case I lose my shit over nothing.

"I just want to be normal, so we can be happy and not so fucking frightened all the time."

My heart swells like a balloon in my chest when he says exactly what I'd been feeling about the whole therapy situation. All I want, more than anything in the world, is to get better and stop being a burden to him. And now that I know that he's not going to up and leave me the first chance he gets, I feel infinitely better.

"Alright, let's do it."

"Are you sure?" he presses.

"Yep."

"Because if you don't want to, I'll tell my parents to fuck off. They'll get over it, and I don't want you doing anything you're not ready for." He's eying me suspiciously, but I smile.

"Edward, I want to do this."

His eyes narrow, but after a moment, he nods, and we wander downstairs to tell his parents that we're willing to give it a try.

Needless to say, Carlisle is thrilled with our decision, and readily accepts our terms. He hurries to his office to start looking into therapists for us, while Esme hugs us both and gushes about how proud she is and how mature we're being. Their happiness feels slightly over the top, and I wonder just how much they thought we were going to fight them on this.

After Esme is finishing rejoicing, her face becomes slightly more sombre.

"Listen, you two…" Her face is nervous, and that makes me nervous.

"Esme -" I try to stall, but she cuts me off with a raised hand.

"Are you together?"

"No," I answer immediately. She casts her eyes to her son.

"We're not together," he says quietly.

"Alright, good. That makes me feel better."

She sighs deeply and continues.

"I understand that you two are under a lot of… stress, what with coming home and everything y'all have been through that I can't even begin to wrap my head around. I understand that, truly I do."

I'm shocked by how laid back she's being about this. I chance a look at Edward, and his expression makes me think he's also surprised.

"However, if you kids have gotten together in all this mess, I expect you to tell me, because I won't have you sneaking around when Charlie Swan has trusted me to keep his baby safe… and not pregnant. Do you understand?"

We both look at the floor, nodding weakly.

"Edward, do you understand me?"

"Yes, mom," Edward groans, clearly just as mortified as I am.

"Good," she nods with a gigantic smile, "because I take that job very seriously. Now, scat! I have to clean up around here," she waves her hand around the near spotless room, "and then I'm heading out for the day. We're organising a carnival for the children's hospital, won't that be fun? Hurry up and get out of here before you start to get on my nerves!"

We wander back up the stairs, and Edward leads the way to his room and flops down onto his bed. I follow, but sit in a more ladylike position.

"You're sure about all of this?" he asks yet again.

"Yes, Edward, I'm sure." I roll my eyes and he frowns.

"Because if you don't want to -"

"Shut up," I cut him off and lean down on the bed beside him. My hand falls to the mattress and bumps his, so he grabs hold of it. I lie there, trying hard to not think about how close he is to me, and how much closer he could be with a couple of tiny manoeuvres on my part. He scratches his stomach, his shirt rising and my eyes immediately follow the movement.

He gently rolls us onto our sides, so one of his arms is under my head and the other over my waist. I push my body into his as tightly as I can, my legs tangling into his and my hands pressed to his chest, gripping his t-shirt. Our foreheads are touching, our breath shared, and still, I want more. We continue to kiss intermittently, the gaps filled with an easy silence that comes so naturally to us.

"You are so beautiful," he says lowly, and I look down, trying in vain not to blush. I meet his eyes and he's smirking at my pique. I narrow my eyes and he leans in, kissing me until I've forgotten what I'm angry about… or where I am.

He releases my lips and reaches out to pry one of my hands from his shirt. He rests our linked hands between us, casually playing with my fingers as he holds my eyes.

"What happens now?" he asks quietly.

"Can't we just stay here forever?" I ask, completely serious. He laughs, and the sound is so lovely.

"Of course we can," he says, his voice joking. "I just meant… what do you want from me, Bella?"

"Everything," I reply immediately, before I realise what I've said. I close my eyes as embarrassment consumes me.

"Oh my god," I whisper, "I'm such a nutcase."

He laughs, and my eyes open in a glare. He presses his lips together to try and stop himself. I shove at his shoulder and he rolls onto his back, his smile huge. From a sidelong angle, he looks so appealing that my hand drifts out and I trace his jaw, marvelling to myself.

"I'm not laughing at you Bella," he says, "I'm laughing because you said exactly what I'm thinking. I want everything, too."

"Oh." I'm a little lost for words at his revelation, because I can't understand how he could possibly want from me what I want from him. Then something occurs to me and I blanche.

"Does this mean we have to tell your mom?" I ask, a little frightened at the thought.

"Not yet," he assures me. "I don't see the point right now… let's just see what happens and then figure it out later."

I relax, because the idea of telling Esme something like that horrifies me. He turns his head to rest his ear against the mattress, meaning that our eyes meet again. His hand, which is resting under my head, combs through my hair gently. I feel so serene that I could just melt into the comforter and not even realise. My eyes drift closed and I smile when I feel his mouth gently brush mine. I open my eyes back up to see him only inches from my face, gazing at me intently.

"What are you looking at?" I ask.

"What do you think?" he snarks, and I laugh almost silently.

"Stop staring at me, perv," I chide, no venom in my words whatsoever.

"I can't help it if I enjoy the view."

I roll my eyes, and try really hard not to show him that as lame as he is, he makes my heart melt a little bit. More than a little bit, if I'm being completely honest.

"I've changed my mind," I tell him seriously, and his eyes widen with curiosity.

"What about?" he asks, his voice a little hesitant.

"I want everything except your bad jokes and tacky compliments."

He snorts and I smirk, because I know I had him worried for a second.

"Shut up, Bella," he says and uses the hand resting under my head to pull me towards him.

* * *

I call Alice later that evening. She tells me she doesn't want to talk over the phone, and that she's on her way over, so I make an effort to make myself presentable because I know that if I don't do it, she'll take it upon herself to do it for me. I find it strange that I used to enjoy putting outfits together, doing my eyeliner just so, and now, it's unbearably taxing. Frivolous.

I hear the doorbell ring, do my final check then head down the stairs. By the time I get there, Esme has already greeted Alice, and apparently, she's staying for dinner. The two seem fast friends which, while not entirely surprising, makes me a little uneasy. There's no telling what they can accomplish with joined forces.

Alice and I head outside to enjoy the balmy evening, Esme dashing out with iced tea the moment we sit down then darting inside.

"So, are you feeling better today?" she asks.

"Yeah…" I look away. "I'm… I acted like an asshole at the party, and I'm sorry."

"Bella, it's cool. In hindsight, that was a really bad idea, and I'm sorry we talked you into it. We thought we were doing the right thing, you know? Obviously, we were wrong."

As much as I agree with her, I don't say anything because it would be rude, and I've treated her poorly enough of late.

"Well, did you at least have some fun on Friday?" I ask, hoping that at least some minute good came from the horrible event.

"Well," she says excitedly, leaning towards me. "I met Edward's older brother, Jasper. Holy shit, is that boy hot. The southern thing? Raow." She makes a claw out of her hand, smirking as though she has an agenda.

"Alice… he's 22," I inform her, expecting her face to fall. She doesn't react at all.

"I know," she responds casually.

"And you're 17… which means he'd go to jail if you hooked up."

"I wouldn't tell anyone," she says impishly with a wink. I'm torn between grimacing and giving her a high five. Alice always gets what she wants, and I start to suspect that Jasper may be the reason that she came over tonight.

"Is that why you came over, Alice?" I ask, and she stares innocently at me. Too innocently.

"Of course not. I came here to see my best friend. If I can log some face time with Colonel Fuck-Me in the interim, so be it. God, what do you think of me, Bella?" She presses her hand to her chest, feigning offence. I roll my eyes but laugh anyway.

Dinner is served and we take our places, Alice by my side, which puts her directly opposite the object of her affection. She surprises me by completely avoiding her normal, somewhat forward methods of getting boys' attention. It's hilarious to watch, and I'm fighting back laughter for most of the meal. For some reason, allowing myself to become immersed in her crazy scheme makes me happy in a lighthearted way that is usually reserved for my time alone with Edward. I resolve to spend more time with my best friend, because I really have missed her.

She is unfailingly polite to Esme and Carlisle, makes a concerted effort to get to know Edward and Emmett, but when it comes to Jasper, she is barely even civil. She seems to be purposely bringing things up that he's interested in, but refuses to engage him in conversation about them. When she does, she's polite, but detached, giving an air of unmistakable boredom.

Stranger still, it seems to be working. Jasper, who is the personifiation of cool and detached, is striving for her attention, particularly when she mentions the civil war, the topic of Jasper's major. Apparently, her father has some collection of artefacts, something I never knew until this very moment. She's unfailingly casual about the whole thing, despite Jasper's enthusiasm. She speaks with ease about specific items and their significance, and he is completely beguiled.

I'm so enthralled by her display that when Edward reaches for my hand under the table, I jump slightly.

"What the hell is she doing?" he asks quietly in my ear, and I snicker.

"She wants Jasper."

"Really? It doesn't seem like it," he notes. I nod minutely.

"I know, but she's clever. You just wait, he doesn't stand a chance."

He nods and leans away, then abruptly, his mouth is at my ear again.

"Isn't she jailbait?" he asks, worried this time.

"Only until July."

"Can't she wait til then?" he murmurs, obviously concerned about his brother.

"At this point, I think she's just laying groundwork," I inform him, and he sits back in his chair, looking a bit distressed. I'm trying as hard as possible not to burst out laughing at the table. I direct my attention back to the family's conversation.

"Alice," Jasper says in his inherited drawl, "that sounds fascinating. Do you think I could maybe come over and get a look sometime?"

She looks at him, polite indifference on her face and nothing else, although she pinches my knee under the table. Apparently, this is a victory.

"Oh," she says hesitantly with a shrug. "I guess you can. I'd have to talk to my dad, he's weirdly protective of all his crap."

"With good reason!" Jasper rebutts, looking a little offended at her lack of enthusiasm. I wonder how she even figured out that he was into this stuff, but I've learned never to underestimate my best friend.

"Maybe you two should get together without me, have a man date or something and talk about it all," she teases, and he looks embarrassed at revealing his nerdy tendencies. This surprises me, and I start to think her tactic is working.

"So, Emmett," she changes her focus, "are you ready to get schooled at guitar hero?"

Emmett scoffs.

"Lady, you have no idea what you're dealing with," he says cockily. "I basically wrote the book on guitar hero."

"Keep talking kid, it'll just be more embarrassing when I own you," she retorts.

"I'll play winners," Jasper offers, and Alice nods absently, not even looking at him as she stares Emmett down. Now that he understands what's going on, Edward laughs a little under his breath, which only makes it harder for me to maintain a casual expression. I quickly stand and start stacking plates to take to the kitchen before my giggles attract any questions.

"Bella, you stop that right this minute," Esme chides from her seat. "Carlisle and I will handle this while y'all go and 'school'," she air quotes, "each other. It's fine. Just remember, it's a school night."

"Don't worry," Alice says ominously, "this won't take long."

We all thank her for dinner and retire to the living room for the contest. I settle into Edward's lap and watch as Alice schools both of his brothers, as promised. Jasper is mortified, and says something about Call of Duty being his game of choice anyway, so Alice offers to play him in that. She wins again. Edward and I are flabbergasted.

"How is she doing this?" he murmurs in my ear. His fingertips are fiddling with my hair, twisting the longest strands on my back and he's holding one of my hands in my lap.

"Honestly, I have no clue," I admit because I had no idea she was even remotely capable of this. She doesn't even look like she's trying. His face falls into the crook of my neck.

"As amusing as it is to see my brothers get pummelled, do you want to head upstairs soon?"

"Sure thing," I say with a quiet giggle, and feel his teeth nip softly at my shoulder. I yelp quietly, but it catches Alice's attention and she gives me an unamused look. Edward is chuckling lowly against me, and I elbow him in the ribs.

"Douchebag," I growl, and he just laughs harder, his body shaking slightly under mine. Emmett flops down on the couch beside us.

"What are you two laughing at?" he asks, kicking his feet up over the arm of the lounge.

"Jasper," I respond, hoping he believes it.

"Yeah," Emmett chuckles, "he's getting the shit kicked out of him, huh?"

"Hey!" Jasper cries, "it's not my fault. This friend of yours is evil, Bella." His tone is teasing and Alice smiles innocently before her character runs up and stabs Jasper's.

"You don't know the half of it," she says with a wink.

****

AN: A little lovin' and some fluff for you guys before we get serious again. Because as much as I enjoy toying with you, I don't want to be responsible for angst-induced suffering... all the time. ;)


	12. 12

I walk into Garrett Reynolds' office clutching Edward's hand so tightly I honestly think it might break. Apparently, he's a friend of Carlisle's, a psychiatrist who has done studies on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in adolescents, so he seemed a perfect fit, at least in Carlisle's view. Edward was very iffy about the suggestion that we had PTSD, even when Carlisle showed him a list of symptoms.

I stayed out of their argument, the first to admit that I had no idea what I was talking about when it came to such things.

We walk over to the front desk where a small woman with long acrylic nails and a brightly coloured satin shirt is speaking quickly on the phone.

"No, he did not. And on your chest? I just... that is disgusting! If Bobby ever did anything like that to me he'd be out on his ass before he knew what hit him, I can promise you that... I don't care how big he is, that's not the point!"

Edward clears his throat conspicuously and she looks up, finally having noticed we're here. She rolls her eyes then returns to her conversation.

"Ugh, one second. I'll call you back." She hangs up the phone then looks at us, clearly irritated.

"What can I do for you?" she sneers.

"So sorry to interrupt what sounded like a truly fascinating and I'm sure work-related conversation," Edward replies pleasantly, "but we have an appointment."

He smiles charmingly at her. She looks mortified and buzzes the doctor, informing him that his 2pm appointment has arrived. Edward smiles at her once more and drags us over to take a seat in the waiting room.

"Mr Cullen and Miss Swan I assume," the doctor says in a deep, even voice as he enters the room. I almost giggle at the cliché before me. He's wearing a large sweater, khaki pants and loafers, and sporting a pair of glasses that are on a necklace so they don't fall off his face. He gestures us into the room and takes a seat on a large, wing-backed arm chair.

Edward sits on the couch and I'm quick to follow. I briefly consider climbing into his lap, purely for my own comfort, but realise that it's slightly ridiculous. I settle for clutching onto his hand, wrapping my other one around his forearm. The doctor's eyes flicker to the movement, and then to my face contemplatively. The expression on his face turns my stomach.

He continues looking at us, saying nothing, until Edward clears his throat.

"So," he starts, "tell me why you two are here on my couch today."

"You know exactly why we're here," Edward sneers, and I flex my hand in his nervously. I know nothing of this man, and he has a polite, somewhat distant smile that reminds me of the blonde. It gave away nothing of the horrors he was capable of, just as Dr Reynolds' gives away nothing of his personality.

"I'd like for you to tell me. Isabella," he looks at me now and I lean back into the couch cushion, trying to put as much space between us as possible, "can you tell me?"

I swallow reflexively against the urge to cry, or be sick, at the though of talking about this.

"We were..."

I hesitate, because I don't think I can even frame the words.

"Yes?" he prompts.

"We were taken away," I mumble.

"Where?" he asks with merely polite interest in his tone, as though it's a vacation we're speaking of.

Edward laughs, although there's no humour in the sound.

"How the fuck would we know?" he asks angrily. I shrink into his side, looking down, my eyes flickering to the doctor every few seconds as I try to figure out how he's going to react to Edward's aggression.

"Touche," Dr Reynolds says placidly, then his eyes focus back on me. I look down at Edward and my joined hands as soon as our eyes meet, unable to return his gaze for even a second. The doctor hums thoughtfully.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Who says we are?" Edward asks.

"Honestly, it couldn't be more apparent, to me, at least." He smiles pleasantly, and I can hear Edward's angry exhalation. Dr Reynolds seems completely unaffected by his behaviour, and I wonder how far this will go before he snaps and reacts in some horrible, completely unforseen way. The suspense is driving me out of my mind.

"Why the fuck does it matter, anyway?" Edward snaps. I'm chewing at my lip to the point where it's hurting but I can't stop figdeting, and my hands are wrapped around Edward's arm so it's my only option.

"Because as your doctor, I have to understand the depth of the bond between you, and also differentiate between what is real, and what is simply a manifestation of the trauma you've encountered."

"You can shove that theory up your ass, because what I feel for Bella is 100% real." The confidence in his voice makes my lips turn up a tiny bit with happiness, despite the unbearable tension coursing through me at being in this heated situation.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fucking positive, you asshole, and none of your psychobabble bullshit can convince me otherwise, so you might as well stop trying. I knew this was a waste of time."

Edward stands up, and I go with him, in the hope that my remaining attached to him prevents him from trying to act out violently. I have no idea how the doctor is going to react to the outburst, and accordingly, I'm terrified.

"Do you really think this aggression is doing you, or Isabella any service, Edward?" the doctor asks from his chair. His calm demeanor is completely at odds with the situation.

"It sure as shit makes me feel better. Fuck you very much, Doctor Douchebag," Edward says, his voice loaded with venom. He storms over to the door, pulling me behind him, because there's no way I'm staying here on my own. I look at the doctor over my shoulder as we leave, trying to apologise with my eyes for Edward's behaviour. Dr Reynolds looks completely placid, not at all affected by Edward's reaction to him.

Edward storms though the lobby, me at a slight run behind him. When we reach his car, parked on the street outside his building, he presses my back against the passenger side door, smacks his hands down on the roof of the car, caging me in. He looks at me, holding my eyes in a way that hypnotises me slightly, and then kisses me harshly. While there's no lust in his kiss, it's filled with everything he'd never tell me. He's angry, so angry, and terrified that despite all his protests, Dr Reynolds might be right about us.

I throw my arms around his shoulders and pull him to me, desperate to reassure him that everything we have is real, and that the doctor couldn't be more wrong about us. The lovely, familiar bubble wraps around us, filling me with resolve, and I hope that he can feel it, or even a fraction of the comfort he brings me. His right hand drops from the roof to my waist, pulling me closer as he pushes me into the car's frame. His long, lean body encompasses me completely, and I've never felt safer, or more sure of him.

A loud catcall breaks through our moment, and Edward pulls back, looking around furiously for the source of the sound.

"Aye, man," the leader of a group of what looks to be fourteen year old boys in bandanas, sagging jeans and oversized shirts says with an appreciative smirk. "Mami is fine, you're lucky you get to hit that. I wouldn't say no to a go with her. What do you say, baby?"

"What the _fuck _did you just say?" Edward spits at the kid, and turns away from me as if he's planning to go over there.

"Edward no," I murmur, grasping his hand. He looks back at me and seeing the look on my face, exhales heavily and stops whatever he was planning to do.

"It's a compliment, bro!" the kid yells, because clearly, he's lacking some mental faculties.

"Shut your fucking mouth, dipshit!" he calls as he unlocks the car and walks around to his side. "You're not even Spanish - you have red hair!"

The boy's friends crow with laughter at him being called out, and he looks mortified. Edward and I get in the car, and he starts the engine in silence. We drive for a few minutes before I dissolve into giggles at what just happened. He looks over at me, confused, but then smiles when he sees my somewhat hysterical laughter. He reaches for my hand and I give it willingly, letting both of ours rest on my thigh for the rest of the trip home.

What happened in the doctor's office looms in my head, but we both do anything we can to avoid it, bickering about music and movies and nothing of substance so we can put it off as long as possible. I'm certainly more than willing to avoid it if he is. We arrive home and I put on Sleepy Hollow, eager to disprove Edward's assertion that it's a shitty horror movie due to the lack of gore. Clearly, that's not why the movie is great, and I'm determined to change his mind.

By the time the credits roll at the end of the film, Edward and I are almost about to come to blows as we argue over the merits of the film.

"Bella, it sucks. The only good part was when the horseman spears that guy because he can't get into the church."

"You neanderthal! You missed the entire point of the movie!" I insist, enraged. He's taunting me now, enjoying my irritation with his ignorance.

"And what, Bella Swan, movie critic extraordinaire, is the point?"

"The point, _Edward_," I sneer, "is that Johnny Depp is a total babe."

He bursts out laughing and I giggle along with him, enjoying the happiness on his face after what's been a rather unpleasant day. I hear a knock on the door and tense at once, knowing that our afternoon of lighthearted avoidance is about to come to an end.

"Edward? Bella?" Carlisle's voice sounds through the door.

"Yeah?" Edward responds on our behalf.

"Can you both come downstairs? Esme and I would like to speak with you."

"Shit," Edward murmurs, and rubs his neck awkwardly. Despite the completely casual tone his father used, Edward knows he's probably in trouble for what happened today. I tense instinctively, because while I'm fairly confident that Edward could defend himself if he had to, the idea of him ever getting in any kind of altercation makes me sick. He squeezes my hand because he can, as is the trend, tell whenever I'm starting to panic.

"Bella, it's going to be ok," he assures me. "He's going to be pissed, but I'll explain to him that the doctor was a total asshole, and it'll be ok."

I nod hesitantly, because I'm not convinced that's how this is going to play out, but I stand and follow Edward into the kitchen, where Esme has put on a resplendent meal, not at all to my surprise. I smile and wave at Emmett and Jasper, in their usual seats, and Emmett beams back at me with a mouthful of food, only to earn himself a glare from his mother. He looks down, contrite, and I laugh at their cliched, but strangely heartwarming exchange.

Dinner proceeds mostly as normal, Emmett chattering away completely oblivious to the cloud of tension hanging around his brother and myself. We know what's coming, and the anticipation dissolves my apetite. Esme, ever the fretting mother, looks at my plate, and then my face, with a worried frown.

"Is there something wrong with your dinner, pet?" she asks. I'm embarrassed that she thinks my inability to be a normal person is somehow her fault.

"No, no," I shake my head quickly in an attempt to reassure her. "It's fantastic! I'm just feeling a little under the weather today."

I feel Edward's hand settle on my knee and the skin to skin contact helps to calm me slightly.

"Are you sure?" she prods, looking sceptically down at her own plate. "I think I might have oversalted just a little bit."

"Not at all," I disagree, feeling awful that I've made her question herself. "It's great, right Emmett?"

Emmett looks up from his quickly diminishing mound of food, his upper lip covered in sauce.

"Yeah, mom," he agrees, "this is fu- it's great!"

Edward scoffs.

"Oh yeah, because he's the best critic alive. The kid eats ketchup sandwiches, for fucks sakes."

"Language!" Carlisle chides.

"Whatever man," Emmett scoffs, "that shit is awesome."

"Maybe if you want to induce vomiting." Despite the dismissive way they address each other, the brothers both have big smiles on their faces, and Jasper is chuckling quietly in his seat. Clearly, this kind of dispute is normal for them, and that makes me smile too.

"Alright, enough is enough, especially with the cussing," Esme says, "you'd think you three were raised by savages. Emmett and Jasper, you are excused."

"Excused?" Emmett cries. "I'm not finished!"

I'm starting to learn that Emmett seems to be able to consume his bodyweight in food at each meal, and although it's mildly repulsive, it's bizarrely fascinating.

"I'll make you a sandwich later," she dismisses him, and he sighs and leaves the table, Jasper following behind goading him about some videogame they play together. I help Esme clear the table then we sit back down, taking Edward's subtly extended hand because we both need the contact.

A protracted moment passes, the four of us sitting in absolute silence. I stare at my placemat, unmoving.

"So," Carlisle starts, making me flinch slightly. "Obviously, today didn't go so well."

Edward scoffs.

"Honestly, most of what happened today was expected," he continues, and Edward's head snaps up with a glare.

"You sent us in _knowing_ that asshole was going to do that shit?" he spits, and I squeeze his hand tightly, a silent instruction not to do anything too rash.

"Garrett is an expert in his field," Carlisle explains evenly, completely disregarding Edward's antagonism. "He knew that you were not likely to be receptive to him, so he provoked you to see the extent of your... responses to stress. Think of it as something of an icebreaker."

"Fucking douchebag," Edward mutters, and I grimace. The doctor's actions seem so callous, to try and manipulate us like that.

"Eventually, you'll go back and see him again," Carlisle continues.

"Not fucking likely."

"Language," Esme chides weakly. I look at her and smile gently, sensing just how sad and uncomfortable she is. I understand her feelings completely.

"Until then, Garrett has suggested a couple of methods that we can apply to help you until a time comes where you decide that you may want to talk to someone."

"Oh really?" Edward asks, his tone derisive. "And what, exactly, are those?"

"Well, Edward you'll be starting personal training sessions with a friend of Garett's that specializes in people who have... trouble... channeling their aggression."

Edward glares at his father's implication, but Carlisle holds his gaze until he sighs and looks away. There's a resignation about him that is somewhat unfamiliar, but I'm just happy he's chosen not to fight his father on this.

And, if I'm being honest with myself, an opportunity for him to let go of some of his anger might be a good thing, at least for my panicky disposition. I know that Edward feels that his aggression is warranted, but I'm not entirely sure that I can take much more of the adrenalin and fear that consume me everytime he puts himself in a situation where he could end up getting hurt.

"And Bella?" Esme says, contributing to the conversation for the first time since it's started. I look to her, immediately nervous as to what's in store for me. "We have something for you too, but it's outside."

My nerves combine with confusion at her somewhat cryptic statement. She stands, extending a hand to me, but I keep mine firmly in Edward's, pulling at him as I stand with the intention of following her. He squeezes my hand reassuringly, because he knows me too well, and gets up. I walk slowly towards the back door, Esme almost skipping ahead with an excitement that only befuddles me more.

Once we're outside, her walk turns to a run as she darts over to something that I haven't seen in the backyard. I walk over slowly, trying to make sense of the sight before us until we get close enough to see what it actually is. Edward stops dead in his tracks, pulling me to a halt with him.

"What the fuck is this?"


	13. 13

Esme bends over the low edge of what can only be described as the pen that has been built in the backyard. She picks something up and walks over, cradling it in her arms. A tiny little head rises from the golden-haired mass, looking around curiously with large, almost black eyes and floppy ears.

"This," she says with a doting smile, "is Checker. He's for you, Bella."

Edward and I look on, completely at a loss.

"A puppy?" he asks, and his tone of voice matches my current feeling.

Esme walks over to me and extends her arms, presenting the small creature to me. I pull my hand from Edward's and accept him without thinking, because he's tiny and if I'm being honest, absolutely adorable. I hold him up to my face, trying to wrap my head around this and look at him. He sniffs hesitantly and then licks my cheek, illiciting laughter from Esme as I pull back, surprised.

"I don't understand," I murmur, still fixated on the tiny creature in my arms. Using my pinky finger, I lift his front leg by his foot, laughing quietly when Checker looks at me, apparently affronted by my behaviour.

"The poor mite and his siblings were abandoned, and he needs someone to take care of him and make sure he's safe. We thought you would be a perfect candidate."

"...And I have to go to the gym and get the shit beaten out of me by some friend of Dr Douchebag?" Edward asks, disgust in his tone. I giggle quietly and he shoots me a playful glare then extends a few fingertips to rub Checker's tiny head. His body shakes slightly in my hands, and he's obviously overwhelmed by all the attention and his new surroundings.

I understand the feeling.

I step over the low fence of his pen and sit down on the floor, then spread my legs before me and place him on the grass in between them. He instinctively curls in on himself, then looks around, sniffing at the air before he unfolds his body and sits upright, facing me. He tilts his head to the side curiously, and I mimick him, trying not to laugh for fear it might frighten him.

"Hello baby," I coo gently, and am rewarded with the sound of his little tail slapping against the grass as it wags behind him. Edward climbs into the pen and sits beside me, his eyes fixed on what is apparently a form of therapy for me. He puts his hand down on the grass beside the puppy, waggling his fingers at him, taunting. Checker pounces, trying to nip at them as Edward evades his eager mouth and the sharp teeth within.

I lean my head against Edward's shoulder, trying to fathom how all the suffering, all the pain and trauma, somehow led me to this moment.

"I can't believe this all," Edward murmurs, his attention fixed on the little animal chasing his hand around. I tense, irrationally concerned that he's somehow figured out how to read my mind.

"What do you mean?" I ask nervously.

"I've been asking for a fucking puppy since I was six fucking years old, and mom always said no, and yet you get one. I swear, she likes you better than me." The playful discontentment in his voice makes me laugh lowly.

"Can you blame her?" I ask, injecting as much arrogance into my tone as I can. He leans back and looks at me. His gaze feels heavy, as though it's pinning me into stillness. I'm hynotized.

"I can't say I do," he says and leans in slowly, pressing his lips to mine. The profound contentment seeps through my veins the moment he touches me as it always does. I feel my body relaxing, a tenseness I wasnt even aware of leaving me. When he pulls away, I roll my eyes to cover the fact that I'm completely besotted with him.

"You are a giant, living cliche," I chide, but I don't mean it at all.

"You love it," he states, completely self-assured and then looks back down at Checker, picking up his game once more.

"He's a chubby little thing, isn't he?" Edward muses, then chuckles. "Chubby Checker. How fitting." The puppy perks up slightly, noticing that Edward is no longer participating in the game.

"Do you like that, huh?" Edward asks, his voice lilting. "I'll call you Chubby then."

I glare at him, affronted.

"You will do no such thing!" I chastise him. He laughs and ignores me, going back to his game. I roll my eyes but can't keep the smile off my face as I watch them play together, wondering how the hell I ended up here.

* * *

I'm pinning back my hair the next morning when Edward strides into the bathroom, dressed in gym gear for his first session with his trainer. I force myself not to get caught up in how good he looks, because I'm having lunch with Esme and picking up some supplies for Checker and don't want to be burdened with inappropriate thoughts. We'll only be apart for about two and a half hours, but I'm dreading it. I deduce from his loitering that he is equally hesitant.

"You don't have to hang out with her if you don't want to," he tells me for what feels like the hundredth time, and I roll my eyes without looking away from my reflection.

"Edward, I want to hang out with her," I repeat yet again, "and regardless, you're at the gym today, so it's not like I have any better offers."

I look over my shoulder at him grimacing at the mention of his session.

"Don't remind me," he grumbles, and I laugh, turn around and lean against the bathroom counter.

"Don't whine," I chide him gently, "and anyway, chicks dig muscles." I wink salaciously and he laughs but pushes off the wall, crossing the room and placing his hands on the counter on either side of my hips.

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying," he says lowly, then leans down to nip gently at my neck. He kisses the spot a second after, soothing it, and making my laugh stutter slightly. He looks up at me from his position, his dark eyelashes framing his eyes in the most appealing way.

"Are you saying that you'd like me better if I was all muscled out?" he questions. I shrug, trying to look innocent, but I'm sure he knows I'm teasing.

"You're going to give a guy self-esteem issues," he states, and I can no longer hold back my giggles. I wind my arms around his neck and hug him to me for a moment as I subdue my laughter, then pull back to take in his pouting face.

"You're perfectly dreamy just how you are," I tell him then kiss him gently. He pulls back, looking affronted.

"Dreamy?" he scoffs. "Fuck dreamy, I want rugged and masculine." He moves his hands to the backs of my thighs and effortlessly lifts me onto the counter. I squeal, completely surprised and he buries his face in my neck, scratching me gently with his slight stubble.

"Oh, you're so brutish and manly!" I cry dramatically, sliding my fingers into his hair and giggling the whole time.

"Much better," he mutters then attaches his lips to mine. This kiss has something more to it than most of our kisses, an extra layer, something darker and heady and appealing in an entirely different way. I throw myself into it, using my grip on his head to pull him closer then wrapping my legs around his and pulling his entire body in line with my own.

A low groan leaves him and his hands wrap around the top of my thighs. He pushes them slightly further apart and shifts my butt to the very edge of the counter, allowing him to move even closer. My skirt has ridden up to near my waist, but it barely catches my attention as his tongue slides into my mouth, coaxing my own into action.

He invades each of my senses one by one, until I feel like I'm drowning in him. Normally he's so careful with me, but this new sense of abandon is thrilling and I want to explore it. I move my hands from his hair to his shoulders, scratching across them with my short fingernails. His kisses increase in intensity and his hips shift against my own as his fingers tighten around my thighs.

A strange, deep moan rumbles from my chest, and I'm surprised that I'm capable of making such a noise. I feel his fingers flex on my skin, and then the pinky and ring finger shift upwards, capturing all the attention I can spare from kissing Edward. His other fingers follow and I struggle to focus on anything else. They edge up slowly, the movements probably near invisible to the naked eye, but I can feel them like his hand is conducting an electric current.

I welcome the feeling entirely, and feel the speed in my heartrate and breathing as he starts us towards unchartered territory. His fingers reach the significantly raised hem of my skirt and slide underneath it. His movements are tentative, because we've never done anything like this before and neither of us know what's going to happen if we continue.

My focus is everywhere at once: his mouth on mine, his hands on my legs, the surge of emotions rushing through me. The clarity he normally gives me seems to be rapidly dissolving as so many other feelings come to the forefront. Want, fear, trust, insecurity, more want.

I pull my face from his, hoping that a bit of oxygen will help me to organise my thoughts, and his face moves along my jaw and down my throat, kissing and licking and sucking and it's all too much.

"Edward," I say, but my jagged breathing distorts the word.

"Hmm," he murmurs against my skin, his mouth unrelenting as he continues a trail acros my collar bone. I place my hands on his shoulders and try to push him back slightly, but he just groans lowly at the feel of my fingernails digging into his skin. This is moving too fast, and I need everything to slow down.

"Stop," I say, a little too loud, and he snaps back from me when he hears the distress in my voice. As soon as he steps away, I realise I've made a mistake. He looks hurt, but unsurprised, and strangely guilty.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he mutters quickly, raking a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have done that shit, I knew it was a bad idea. I'm such an asshole."

I want to pull him back to me, to reassure him that it's no fault of his that I can't even physically show him what he means to me, and how much I want him.

"No," I try to argue, but he won't listen. He won't even meet my eyes. When he hears my voice, he takes another step back, and my stomach clenchs at the sight of my scaring him away. My eyes sting with tears at the self-loathing on his face, knowing that I did this to him.

"Please," I beg, "it wasn't you. I just... I don't - it wasn't you. I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologise," he spits and I flinch back slightly at the hardness in his voice, something that's never been directed at me before. What feels like an eternity passes between us, and just when I feel like another second will drive me insane, he walks back towards me. I reach out a hand to him, but he doesn't take it. Without saying a word, he pulls my skirt back down to a more respectable level and then steps back again.

"I'm so sorry." Wit that, he walks out of the bathroom. I drop my face into my hands and try to stop the need to cry like a little girl from overwhelming me completely. It takes me a few minutes, but eventually, I slide off the edge of the counter, fix my face and hair, then go downstairs. On my way down, I pray that my ability to compartmentalise things in my mind doesn't fail me now.

I find Esme sitting outside at a small table with Checker in her lap, petting him absently while she flips through what looks like a gardening magazine. She has her hair in a low twist and sunglasses on, and seems like she's a living photograph. She looks up at her own garden contemplatively, then back down at the page as she reads, like she's imagining implementing the ideas she's reading about. I clear my throat and she jumps a little, laughing sheepishly.

"Oh! You scared me, sweet! You're gonna make my hair go grey, sneaking around like that!"

I laugh gently and my eyes flicker down to the puppy in her lap. She gestures to him with one perfectly manicured hand, an invitation, so I pick him up and sit opposite her, placing him down in my lap much as she had before. He looks nervous, but eventually settles. I gently run my fingers over his velvety ears and down his neck, scratching his back with a light touch in an attempt to calm him.

"So, my dear," Esme starts, closing her magazine and focusing on me, "what would you like to do today?"

"I don't mind," I say, trying to keep my eyes focused on Checker rather than her questioning gaze. I feel like she can somehow tell what happened this morning, or at least feel my rather morose state.

"Alright, I'll make the plans but," she says slyly, "you need to shake off this sour mood you're all wrapped up in. I know you don't like being away from my lovely boy, but it's only a couple of hours, and it's good for you." I look up, expecting to see irritation on her face, but she's smiling playfully. She winks and I relax a bit, feeling my affection for this slightly strange woman grow even more.

Three hours later, we return to the house, carrying almost every product that a dog could ever need, and many that it couldn't. Edward's car is in the driveway, so I know he's home, but I chicken out and spend the better part of the next hour playing with Checker and indulging Esme's desire to try on some of the outfits she bought him.

When Checker sulks away, obviously sick of the fashion parade, I realise that I have no more reason, however flimsy, to avoid Edward any longer. I gather my resolve and drag my body up the stairs, feeling suddenly tired. It's as though every fibre of my being wants to put this off.

I'm distracted by the sound of soft music floating from Carlisle's office. I walk to the door, and then hesitate, not entirely sure if I can do this, especially on my own. I take a deep, steadying breath, comb my fingers through my hair and square my shoulders before knocking on the already half-open door.

"Come on in," I hear Carlisle's voice and push the door open the remainder of the way. He smiles at me and it reminds me so much of his son. He gestures to the seat before his desk and closes the large book he's reading.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," I mumble, embarrassed and nervous and regretting coming in here entirely.

"Not at all," he dismisses with a casual wave of his hand. "Something on your mind, Bella?"

"No," I respond reflexively. His expression exudes patience, as though he can tell that I'm struggling with this. I sigh. "Alright, yes."

"I suspected as much," he says with a soft chuckle.

I take another deep breath, trying to convince myself that I can do this. I wish Edward was with me, but force myself to remember that I'm doing this for him, and the thought drives me to speak.

"Carlisle, I'd like to meet with Dr Reynolds again, please."

A smile lights his face, and then turns contemplative, almost reluctant.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that, Bella. That said, Edward has made it quite clear to me that he isn't ready to return to Garrett's, at least not yet. This is why we've looked into the alternate therapies for you. As much as I commend your bravery, I have to make sure you know that you will be doing this on your own, at least until he's ready."

I'm doing this for him. I'm doing this for him. I'm doing this for him.

"I know," I say softly, trying to disguise my fear. Carlisle's smile is sympathetic, and I think he sees right through me.

"Alright, I'll make the call for you," he concludes. I nod, attempt to smile at him and walk to the door.

"Bella?" he calls gently, and I turn. "I know you're scared, but what you're doing here, trying to move forward with your life, it's... well, I'm proud of you. I'm sure Charlie will be too."

I smile at Edward's father, more genuinely this time, and leave his office, heading back to Edward's and my rooms. When I enter, I see him lying on our bed, listening to his iPod. His eyes are closed, his foot moving to the beat of whatever he's listening to. He looks so peaceful, I contemplate leaving the room and letting him be. However, before I can, he opens his eyes and sees me. I wonder if he could sense me here, because I'm not sure how he knew. He removes one of his ear buds and pushes his torso against the bed frame so he's sitting upright.

"Hey," he says lowly, and all the confidence Carlisle's words had given me dissolves.

"Hi," I mumble, feeling unbearably awkward and rooted to the spot. Edward flicks his eyes to the bed then back to me, an invitation that despite my nerves, I cannot refuse. I sit on the bed, and hesitate, not sure if I should go near him after this morning's insanity. After a moment, I gather my resolve and tuck myself into his side. For a moment, he seems surprised, but then wraps his arm around my shoulders. I bury my face into his neck, inhaling him and wishing that none of it had ever happened.

I feel his chin on the top of my head and reach for his free hand, clasping it between mine. Feeling completely safe wrapped up in his calming presence, I start to unwind after what has been a truly terrible day. The stress, panic and insecurity fall dormant and despite all the madness that has plagued me, I get back a little of the normality that is now so foreign.

I can't undo it all, but I can try to fix whatever it was that caused it. I need to get better, not just for him, but for me.

For us.

**AN: A gigantic thank you and smooch to the ladies of Twi FanFic Addicts, particularly BittenInCA, who said groingrabbingly amazing things about this story on one of their webisodes. Go check out their website, it's awesome, and listen to the lovely things they say about me, because i'm narcissistic like that. **

**In the interest of paying it forward, here's a rec for you guys:**

_**Love Comes**_** Last by **_**itsyblue1214**_** is absolutely OWNING me at the moment. Basically, Bella marries Edward so he can claim his birthright, despite being completely in love with him and knowing he doesn't love her back. Heartfail aplenty, written in an absolutely breathtaking way.**

**Get on it, leave her some love, because her story doesn't have nearly enough of it. I don't know the girl, but she is talented as all fuck, and I can't rec this story strongly enough.**

**Love and sneaky gropes for all, catch you next week 3**


	14. 14

Dr Reynolds' office somehow feels about ten thousand times more intimidating this time than it did last time. I attribute this to it being Esme beside me in the waiting room, rather than Edward.

He doesn't even know I'm here.

I know he'd be angry if he found out I was gallivanting around the countryside without him knowing where I am, but I also know that he's not ready to come back here yet, but that if I told him I wanted to, he'd force himself regardless of his comfort. His personal training sessions have given me the opportunity to go about this, and as guilty as I feel for keeping it from him, it's for the best.

At least that's what I'm trying to convince myself.

The doctor walks out of his office, a polite smile on his face. I slide down in my seat, instinctive fear running through me, but take a deep breath and force myself to at least try to be normal. He waves me over and I release my hand from Esme's, a little embarrassed at how I'd been clinging to her.

"I'll see you in an hour, peach," she says gently with that motherly smile I've come to love so much. I force myself to cross the room and walk through the door Dr Reynolds is holding open for me, keeping my body as far away as possible. I seat myself on the couch, positioning myself exactly where Edward had been last time, as if it could some how bring my closer to him and assauge my discomfort.

I want to do this. I _need_ to do this.

My eyes dart around the room, gauging my surroundings in a vain attempt to familiarise and calm myself.

"So, Isabella -"

"Bella," I cut him off quietly, the reflex overriding my anxiety.

"Bella," he says with a smile. "What brings you back to me today? I notice that Edward isn't with us. Why is that?"

"He... doesn't want to come back."

"But evidently, you do."

I nod, abruptly irritated at his stating the obvious.

"And why is that?" he prods.

"I just... I want to be normal again."

"Normal? That's an interesting choice of words. How do you define the normality you're after?"

I pause to think, so I can try to enunciate just how much I crave to be the girl I once was.

"I'm tired of being so frightened."

I can't think of any better way to phrase it than that. He smiles slightly and nods, apparently satisfied with my somewhat laconic response.

"What are you frightened of?" he asks.

"... Everything."

He laughs gently.

"I'm going to need you to be a little more specific than that, Bella."

I immediately tense as my mind instinctively tries to lock out the thoughts I know need to come to the surface.

"I don't want to hurt anymore."

He nods.

"And I don't want anyone else to hurt because of me." Especially Edward.

"I'm going to tell you something now, Bella, get it out of the way early. I suspect that because of what you've been through, you're going to struggle with this, but it's crucial to your healing that you try to wrap your mind around it."

I wait in silence.

"You need to stop thinking about others. If you're doing this because you genuinely want to live a more healthy life and move past what happened to you, then I'm confident I'll be able to help you. However, if you're doing this out of some misplaced sense of guilt, you won't be able to properly benefit from what we're doing here.

"So I'll ask you once, are you doing this because you think you have to, or because you genuinely want to?"

He looks at me for a long moment, and I feel as if he can tell that I'm fighting the temptation to run out of the room.

I can do this. I can.

"I want to get better."

His passive expression changes to a gentle smile. My lip twitches up slightly in response.

"I'm glad to hear that, Bella."

A moment passes and then he clears his throat.

"Now, I know some information about your time away, but I'd like to hear it from you directly."

I swallow hard. I know this was coming, and that this is the main purpose of my being here, but it doesn't make it any easier. My leg starts moving of it's own accord, twitching in a silent expression of the stress that is eating me alive. He looks at my shaking leg, then back to my face.

"Tell me about the day you were taken, Bella."

"I - I don't know if I can." I'm disgusted by how weak my voice sounds when I say those words.

"There's no rush," he says, his voice even but somehow a little soothing. "Take as long as you need."

I take a deep breath and try my best to reopen a wound that I have tried to seal shut with every fibre of my being.

_I was running late._

_Woefully, unfashionably, going-to-get-a-smack-from-Alice late._

_I snatched my bag off the counter, cursing loudly when my keys fell to the ground. I yanked them up and ran into the garage, remote-unlocking my car as I bolted. I briefly considered making up at least a little of the time by speeding slightly, but the countless lectures my father, the District Attorney, had given me about the risks I was posing to both myself and everone in the general vicinity prevented me._

_I'd rather take Alice's wrath than go to prison for vehicular manslaughted... orange was so not my colour. _

_In my rush, I failed to notice a lot of things._

_I didn't notice that there had been a car following behind me the entirety of my journey from home to the restaurant. _

_I didn't notice that the very same car filled the only spot left outside the place, forcing me to drive around the block to my usual back-up parking lot that barely anyone knew about. _

_I didn't notice that when I climbed out of my car and headed down the alleyway to get back to the restaurant that a man climbed out of his car and followed me._

_I did, however, notice when I saw a non-descript blonde man, dressed in a pair of jeans and black boots, walking down the narrow path towards me. I moved to my left so that he could pass, trying to be polite. He just continued down the middle of the alleyway._

_I looked up, a little irritated at this man's lack of common courtesy. He had a small smile on his face, victorious even. Looking back, I realise that he was consumed by the thrill of the hunt. He had stalked, and trapped his prey, and was savoring the moment._

_My stomach rolled as intuition seemed to punch me in the gut._

_Something was wrong._

_I fixed my eyes back on the ground, and then slid my eyes backwards, trying to plan a way out of the situation. That's when I saw the tall, ebony-skinned man I hadn't noticed before. He was looking at me in a different way to the blonde. Vacant, expressionless, but no less terrifying. _

_Something was very, very wrong here._

_I stopped moving as the men took their final steps, placing one on either side of me, only a couple of feet away._

_"Look," I said, trying to maintain a level voice and failing immediately. "You can have whatever you like. Just take it." Slowly, I placed my purse on the ground and slid it towards the blonde man in front of me._

_He just laughed, a hollow sound that made me want to throw up._

_"That's not what we're here for," he chuckled lowly. _

_"What do you want?" _

_"We're going to need you to come with us."_

_I looked over my shoulder desperately, hoping against hope that the other, dark skinned man would no longer be there and that I would be able to run. I was wrong. My eyes flicked back to the blonde, and I weighted my chances for a fraction of a second. _

_I bolted in the direction of the second man, hoping that I could catch him by surprise and slip past him. I was mistaken. As soon as I got within his reach, he extended a bulky arm and wrapped it around my waist, lifting me off the ground with almost no effort at all. I struggled as hard as I could._

_"Help me!" I screamed, beating my fists against the man and writhing in an attempt to get out of his grip. "Somebody help me!"_

_The blonde man approached, savoring the scene before him before he clamped his hand over my mouth with painful force. His fingertips dug into my face, but I screamed on regardless. _

_Make as much noise as possible, try to draw attention to yourself._

_"Now, now," the man chided, his breath in my face as he leaned in. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The harder you make this for me, the harder things will be for you, I guarantee it."_

_He looked up to the french man, nodded once, and they began moving. I fought as hard as I could as they walked to a van that had been parked at the mouth of the alley. I struggled and bit at them, screaming and cursing and doing anything I could to stop them, but I couldn't._

_It wasn't enough._

"It wasn't enough," I repeat dully, looking down at my hands as my failure consumes me.

"What more could you have done?" he asks. The question stings, as I'd spent hours - days even- while I was in that room thinking about exactly what else I could have done to avoid what happened.

"I want to go home."

I don't wait for his approval. I pick up my bag and walk out of the room, leaving him seated in the chair. I open the door to see a surprised Esme look up from her magazine. She glances down at her watch and back at my blank face, a mixture of concern and confusion on hers.

"Honey, what are you doing? You've only been in there for twenty minutes."

"I'd like to go home now," I tell her. It seems to be the only thought that can penetrate that haze that has descended. I'm trying so hard to push everything back out, but now that the dam has been opened there's nothing I can do to plug it.

"Are you sure?" she murmurs, standing. I take an instinctive step away from her, not wanting contact or any kind of reassurance. It could disrupt my protective haze, and I can't allow that.

"Yes, please."

She looks over my shoulder, presumably at Dr Reynolds, then nods slowly. She picks up her purse and I follow her back to the car, not saying a word the entirety of the trip. I walk up the stairs and into Edward and my shared room, closing the door softly behind me.

I lean against it and slide down the cool wood as the tears start falling. I try to focus on the feeling of them tracking down my face instead of the memories pushing their way into my conscious mind. I'd worked so hard to subdue them, and with that one small break in the wall I'd put up, they're all bursting through.

_"Why are you doing this to me?" I screamed as I was lifted from the back of the van by the dark-skinned man. "I haven't done anything wrong!"_

_"It's not always about you, princess," the blonde chuckled. It was dark, but I could make out the small cabin that we were walking towards. Well, that they were walking towards._

_"Please! My father will give you money, or anything you want! Just let me go!" I'd been begging the entirety of the trip, but my pleas were falling on deaf ears. _

_"I'm sure he would," sneered the blonde, "but this is bigger than that."_

_He opened the door and the other man carried me inside. I tried to wrap my fingers around the door frame, on final attempt at freedom, but the blonde man grabbed my arm with excruciating force, twisting until I was forced to let go. I directed my gaze at the man carrying me, hoping against hope that he'd have some humanity I could appeal to. He looked away the moment our eyes met. _

_"Please... please don't do this! Please!"_

_I didn't even know what I was asking them not to do, but I'd soon find out._

I drag my body over to the bed, pull the sheets off the top half and curl up against the headboard, tracing the familiar quilted pattern of the mattress. It's not the same, but it's the closest I'll get to finding the familiar solace I crave.

_Edward had been in the room with me for little over an hour. He'd spent nearly the entire time since introducing himself combing the room vigilantly, looking for any kind of exit or weapon he could find. He came up with nothing. I knew he would, but I didn't have the heart to tell him how futile his efforts were. _

_He looked over at me, in the corner on the mattress, and sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair and then down his face._

_"Room for me on there?" he said teasingly._

_I nodded and shuffled minutely closer to the wall to give him as much space as possible. He flopped down, his feet still on the concrete floor and his body hunched over, then sighed once more before turning to look at me._

_"So this is it, huh?"_

_I didn't respond._

_"I'm not going to lie, but this place is a fucking hell hole."_

_I couldn't bring myself to tell him, but it was only a matter of time until he realised that this small, dank room wasn't a hell hole at all. When compared to the other room, the room with the men and the chair and the bound wrists and beatings, this room was my haven._

_Our haven._

I fight with the memories until I can take no more, and sleep consumes me. I awake to the sound of Edward moving around our room, and try not to burst into tears from sheer relief. He's pulling a t-shirt over his head, his hair wet from his post-workout shower. I vault myself off the bed and over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. He gets his shirt on and turns in my arms, laughing lowly when I bury my head in his chest.

His arms wind around my body, and I feel at ease again as the bubble surrounds me, filling my tired head with the contentment I crave.

"Miss me?" he teases, and I just nod against him, inhaling his smell, which is intensified by the dampness of his skin. He kisses the top of my head, then pulls back and I can feel him looking at me. After one more deep breath of him, I look up and see his eyes flicker to the partially exposed mattress then back to me, concern and curiosity evident on his features.

"Hey," he murmurs, brushing a gentle hand down my face.

"Hey," I breathe back. I let myself drown in his lovely face and the warmth of his body and his amazing smell and every other part of him that makes me feel so at ease.

"Are you alright?" he questions, glancing at the mattress once more. I smile softly at him, trying to express my gratitude for the overwhelming relief he brings me.

"I'm just fine."

**AN: What did I get you all for christmas? information... my christmas gift from you? reviews.**

***smooches***


	15. 15

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Edward groans. I smile weakly at Esme, trying not to show my distate for the pile of books she's just set in front of us.

"Now you look here, son of mine," she chides. "I've spoken with your school, and they've agreed that if you can pass the revised finals they set you, you'll be able to get through without having to repeat a grade. If Bella can pass them, they'll admit her for next year and you two can be together, which I know is important to y'all."

If only she knew.

"It took a whole mess of sweet-talking for me to swing this for you, so I think you should be a little more grateful to your momma, considering how much she does and how much she loves you."

She pinches his cheek lovingly and he pulls away, wiping at the spot with a scowl on his face.

"Thank you, Esme," I murmur, perking up a little at the idea of being able to attend school with Edward next fall.

"Yeah, thanks Mom," he grumbles.

"You're welcome, my loves. You two are going to have to put your heads down and do some work so that you can pass these things. Don't make me look like a fool for doing this for you."

She points at us accusingly for a moment, then laughs delicately and leaves us in the dining room, surrounded by a mountain of books and a large plate of fresh cookies. I realise the effort it would have taken her to coordinate this, especially considering it's June and we've missed almost three full months of school. I stare at the books for a while, then reach for the first study guide I find.

Biology.

_Great._

Edward sees the one I've picked up, groans again, and rifles through his pile for the same one. I look at him questioningly.

"At least this way, we can help each other. By which I mean, you can help me, because I cannot be fucked with this bullshit."

I giggle, then pause abruptly when I hear Esme's voice through the slightly open door.

"I hear laughing, but I don't hear any learning!" she calls. Edward rolls his eyes and I try to hold back more laughter by opening the printed guide in front of me.

I'd always thought myself to be a fairly capable student, but this all looks like jibberish to me. How could knowing about the cellular structure of plants possibly be important now?

I try as hard as I can to submerse myself in the menial facts, to absorb as much as I can, but it's near impossible, especially with Edward sitting so close, making irritated noises and tapping his pen against the table. I just want to laugh at him... and kiss him, but I persist with the work.

"This is such bullshit," he grumbles for what feels like the millionth time. I hold back an eye roll.

"I know, but it's normal. It's real life. We're doing something totally mundane and normal, and that's a good thing."

He sighs.

"You're too fucking smart sometimes, do you know that?" he asks, reaching under the table to clasp his hand in mine. Edward is left-handed, and I'm right, so we're able to continue working while touching each other. Just another reason why he's perfect.

Well, perfect for me.

Checker sits at my feet, entertaining himself by playing some game with his tiny little feet, watching with rapt attention as he moves them around. I smile down at him, oblivious to his surroundings and I envy his life for a moment, then abruptly feel like an idiot.

Emmett strolls into the room, taking us all in, then laughs.

"Suckers!" he crows. "I was jealous you got out of so much school, but not anymore!"

Edward scowls and gives him the finger. Emmett notices Checker sitting on the floor and chuckles to himself.

"Is he doing that thing with his hands again?"

I nod and smile reflexively. Emmett looks at his own hands, turning them this way and that with a contemplative expression.

"I wish my hands were as interesting as him seem to be. Come here, Chubs!"

Checker totters over excitedly, thrilled to be receiving attention. They trot out of the room together, and I can't help but laugh at a little, despite scowling at the nickname, which seems to have caught.

"Finally, Emmett has met his match, both in looks and intellect," Edward muses.

"Rosalie will be heartbroken," I add, and he chuckles under his breath. We try to refocus on our studies, but Edward's fingertips are trailing up my wrist and forearm as he writes. The look on his face would make it seem like it's an absent thing, but I think he knows exactly what he's doing. It's impossible to focus when he's touching me like that and he knows it.

Eventually I begin to get annoyed and drop the pretense of studying altogether.

"Let's do something, this is boring," I whine playfully. He scoffs.

"So much for little miss 'let's be normal and study'."

"I'm sick of that now."

He makes a show of slamming his workbook shut and throwing it across the table.

"Fuck yeah, let's go."

He reaches out a hand for me and we sneak out of the house, pausing only to grab his car keys before Esme can catch us. Knowing her, she probably wouldn't mind at all, but it's fun to be playful even for a little while.

"Where to?" he asks once we're what he dubs a safe distance from his house and the parental authority within.

"Take me somewhere awesome," I say snottily, leaning back in my chair and waving my hand in a dismissive gesture. I can almost hear him rolling his eyes as he turns up the music and the car accelerates. I consider asking him where he's taking me, but I trust him implicitly so I don't bother. My normal need to have all the details before I'm taken anywhere doesn't exist with him.

That thought almost makes me sigh aloud.

After my session with Dr Reynolds, I'd been trying to force myself to become as self-aware as possible of the effects of my time away. It's by no means an easy feat, because the behaviours - the distrust, the irrational terror - seem so natural to me. I'm supposed to be keeping a mood diary for him, writing down when I start to feel frightened and what triggers it, but it's hard for me to tell when I'm being reasonable and when I'm not. He'd spoken to Esme via phone just after my session and apparently I was to write it all down, but I'm so used to the residual discomfort - the paranoia - that it's hard to differentiate what's noteworthy and what's not.

I open my eyes a little and peek at Edward, completely relaxed as he drives and taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. He looks so at ease - so happy and unguarded. Trusting. Guilt consumes me.

I hate that I'm keeping things from him, as necessary as it is for me to do so. I just don't see an alternative that won't result in him pushing himself into something he's not ready for. As much as he complains, I'm confident the gym sessions are helping him, if in no other way than giving him a way to get out all the anger and rage he feels about everything that happened to us, and the fallout afterwards .

I scoff internally at my euphemism.

Self-aware.

I don't bother to correct myself though.

Weak.

Rather than let myself descend into a spiral of self-loathing at my various inadequacies, I focus on the music around me and reach for Edward's hand, letting the calm soak into my pores. My eyes drift closed and I bask in it, the confined space of the car only helping me to forget the rest of the world outside.

Eventually we come to stop and my eyes open. We're at a tiny, seemingly abandoned beach. It's nearing dusk and the place doesn't seem like it ever hosts alot of visitors, especially not now. Edward climbs out of the car and goes to the boot, pulling out a large blanket that I suspect lives in there.

He takes my hand and leads me down an uneven set of stone steps that lead to the sand, then throws out the blanket, spreading it on the ground. We're quite a ways back from the water, nestled in a small enclave in the low, vine-like plants that grow on the dunes. Small yellow flowers litter the area, and it's absolutely beautiful.

I step onto the blanket, then pause before I sit, narrowing my eyes at him.

"This isn't like, your outdoor sex blanket, or something, is it? I don't want skank germs on me." I'm teasingly suspicious and he just rolls his eyes before flopping down onto it. He looks up to see my still-skeptical expression, and yanks on my arm, throwing my balance off and making me collapse down beside him. I pinch his forearm but settle against him when he wraps his arm around my shoulder.

For a long time, we just sit, the sound of the gentle waves and some nearby birds the only noise we can hear.

"Do you ever wonder what happened to them?" I ask after a while.

"Who?" he asks, leaning back to look at me. My expression must give something away because realisation lights his face at once. "Oh."

"Yeah." Them.

"I... Carlisle told me. After everything that happened with Emmett, he told me that they'd all been arrested and were awaiting trial."

"And you didn't tell me?" I ask, moving away slightly as the lie seems to phyiscally sting me. I know I'm a hypocrite, but it hurts me in a way I can't imagine. This seems like such an important thing to disclose.

"I wasn't sure you wanted to know," he says, running his hand down his face as he heaves a frustrated sigh. "I just... I know it was a dick move, but I was trying to protect you, you know?"

Of course he was.

"You didn't want to hear anything about it, so I didn't say anything."

He looks so penitent, and I feel terrible for pulling away from him. I lean back into his body and he runs his hand down the side of my face, tiltling it towards him. He's sorry, I can tell, and he was only trying to protect me. Honestly, I really didn't want to know, but now that I'm forcing things up with Dr Reynolds, the knowledge makes me feel better.

"I hope they get the crap beaten out of them in jail," I say simply, snuggling into him. He laughs and tightens his arm around me.

"I have no doubt your dad pulled a few strings and they're having a pretty rough time in there," he muses and the thought makes me smile. I'm by no means a violent person, but I can't help but be pleased by the idea that they might be suffering just a fraction of what they did to us. That someone out there is taunting them, putting them through that hell.

Especially the blonde.

"Carlisle knows more," Edward tells me after a little while. "We can talk to him if you want. I didn't really ask anything after he told me they were gone. That was all I was really worried about."

"You aren't curious about why they took us?"

"Not then, I wasn't." I could understand that. Freedom had been so overwhelming, it hadn't even occured to me to inquire as to why it had been snatched from us for so long.

"And now?" I press.

"I guess so, yeah. The whole thing was just so completely fucked up... there's no legitimate reason for all the shit that happened to us, and I really didn't think that hearing whatever justification those assholes gave to try and save their asses would make me feel any better."

As bizarre as it is, his logic makes complete sense to me. He sighs, then leans back again to study me, obviously checking my comfort level because of the subject matter.

Worrying, always worrying.

"I didn't know that you wanted to know, otherwise I would have mentioned it sooner," he says. I shrug awkwardly, my body still half wrapped around his.

"I just... maybe it'll help, you know?"

He refocuses on the ocean before us and hugs me closer, pulling my frame as close to his as possible. One of his hands slides into my hair, rubbing gently at the nape of my neck.

"Maybe."

He's not ready for it. This bolsters my reserve that witholding the therapy thing is the right choice. I won't force him to confront his various demons before he's ready, especially now that his gym sessions are helping him channel his aggression. I won't make him hurt for nothing, especially since I survived my session on my own.

I turn my face into him and press a kiss to his t-shirt covered chest. He sighs again, but the sound denotes contentment, rather than worry. He wraps me around him as best he can, taking back all the comfort I normally get from him. I can't stop smiling, knowing that I can do this for him as well. I can make him stronger, just like he does for me.

I shift myself upwards, throwing a leg over his body so that I'm seated in his lap. My ankles cross behind him and I rest my hands on his shoulders, just looking at his face. He smiles softly at me, trying to disguise his discomfort. Always trying to protect me, so often at his own expense.

"You know, as awful as it all was, at least we found each other in it," I offer, pressing my forehead to his. "I don't know how I would have survived without you."

"So you're saying we focus on the silver lining?" he asks, his voice a little teasing.

"Silver?" I scoff, "not even close. Nowhere near valuable enough."

He laughs, and it's half-hearted and a little husky, but it's still there and that's enough. I kiss him, just a whisper against his lips, but it reaffirms everything we haven't said that we know hangs in the air around us.

_I'm here. You're here. And I'll wait every second it takes until you're ready to face this._

He kisses me back, more firmly this time, and I know he's acknowledging my silent declaration.

He's not ready yet, but he will be.

**AN: Nawwwwwwwwwwww .**

**And, more info for you! Happy New Year lovelies - get extra trashed, because i'm starting at 8am NYE and going til 10pm NYD... beat that. **

***smooches***


	16. 16

"You're back," Dr Reynolds notes with a smile.

"Yep," I respond, a little sourly. Did he think I wouldn't be? That I'm not dedicated to this? I push down my irrational annoyance, knowing that it's brought on by nerves.

He just chuckles at my pique and takes his seat, gesturing for me to take mine. I sit in Edward's place on the couch again, kicking my shoes off and crossing my legs underneath myself.

"That's a rather defensive posture," the doctor notes. I look down at myself, not understanding why it's defensive. It's just comfortable. He senses my confusion and clarifies.

"You've tucked your body up into a little ball, just like a frightened animal," he explains and I look down again. I suppose he's right. I go to unfold my legs but he holds up a hand, stopping me.

"You can sit however you'd like to, Bella," he says with a smile, "but I've inferred from your position that you probably haven't been eagerly anticipating seeing me again."

"Not particularly, no," I reply truthfully. He's not offended in the slightest by my honesty, and I respect him for that, even though I find it a little confusing at times.

"Why is that?"

"Last time wasn't fun for me," I explain, trying to keep the resentment out of my voice. "I started to remember things that I don't like to think about. It hurts."

"Bella, I'm going to be honest with you. That's going to be happening quite often, particularly during our first few sessions when you haven't established a means of dealing wih the troubling thoughts you're having. I'll of course help you in any way I can, but you're going to have to be strong."

I nod, even though I'm tempted to run out of the room and forget therapy for good.

"However," he continues, "would it be worth it for you not to deal with what you've been through and live a life of fear and discomfort?"

I shake my head.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can manifest itself in a number of ways, Bella - some we can predict and deal with, some we can't pre-empt at all. The human mind is a very confusing, intricate place." He says the words with the reverence of someone who has dedicated their life to the study of those exact intricacies. "However, what we do know for certain is that leaving such poisonous thoughts to roam free through your psyche can only harm you in the long run, so we need to get them out now and deal with them as best we can. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"

I nod again.

"I'm glad to hear it. The temporary discomfort of our sessions is a worthwhile price to pay for a life of happiness and normality once you get past it all. And that's our common goal in all this, is it not?"

His choice of words resonates strongly within me... _normality._ I crave it beyond anything else, and will pay any price he asks for it.

"You're right," I admit and straighten my shoulders up, trying to look more confident than I feel. "What do you want to know about today?"

He smiles at me, looking both proud and reassuring.

"I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear that, Bella."

That makes one of us.

"Ok," he clears his throat, looking swiftly through the notes he took last week. "Tell me what things you started thinking about when you got home from our session last week."

I hesitate, struggling to verbalise it all, as per usual.

"When they put me in the room... and when Edward arrived."

"What was it like for you when he arrived? How was it different to before?"

"It was better and worse."

"How so?"

It almost kills me to choke out the next sentence.

"I felt... better, because I wasn't alone anymore. That made me feel so, so guilty."

I still feel guilty for thinking like that.

He nods.

"Bella, that's a completely rational response. Did you feel better because you thought he'd be taking some of the negative attention away from yourself? That hopefully he'd be a scapegoat and you could avoid some abuse?"

"Of course not!" I cry, horrified at the very thought of that.

"Then what do you have to be guilty for?" he asks evenly.

"Because him being in there made me feel better!" I cry, enraged and disgusted all at once. "What kind of person would feel better knowing that someone else was going to be going through the same hell they were?"

"Humans are inherently social creatures, Bella," he explains. "It doesn't surprise me at all that you felt, and still maybe feel better for having someone share that experience with you. It's at the very core of your bond with Edward, and will bond you for the rest of your lives, I suspect."

I don't respond.

"You weren't happy to have him there to take away your personal suffering, you were happy to have someone to help you process the aftermath, someone to talk to. That's not a crime, Bella. That's being human. No one, including Edward, would fault you for that."

"But he did..." I murmur dejectedly.

"Did what?"

"He did take punishments for me. All the time."

"Don't call them punishments, Bella," the doctor corrects me. "That's not what they were. A punishment is appropriate retribution for wrongdoing on your part. What you experienced was abuse, and that's an important distinction for you to make."

"He took _abuse_ for me, then," I paraphrase rudely. He ignores the bite in my tone.

"Thank you. Do you think that him volunteering himself in order to protect you is the reason you feel so connected with him?"

"No." I don't think it is, but I'm terrified that it could be.

"Neither do I."

For some reason, despite logically knowing that this man knows almost nothing of Edward, hearing him say that makes me feel a little better. I snuggle down into Edward's seat, wishing he was here with me.

"While Edward may have taken some abuse that was otherwise intended for you, I think that it's only small part of the role he played in your life while you were away together. The larger, and much more significant part, was that of a support system. The two of you experienced it all together, and whether you realised or not, helped each other to survive the experience."

He's telling me something I already know. I honestly doubt I would have survived it on my own.

"And that's why you two feel so disconnected from the rest of the world. Such a pivotal, damaging experience would of course make you feel like no one else understood. It's my job to make you understand that there is a world full of people beyond what you experienced for those weeks, and that you can, when you're ready, reimmerse yourself in it.

"It's also my job to make you understand that your relationship with Edward is not normal."

"It's the only thing that makes me feel normal," I spit at him, abruptly defensive.

"You two are co-dependent, to a point where it's near impossible for you to lead a normal life. I'm talking with you today in the hope that eventually, you can return to a normal life. And that means a normal, healthy relationship with Edward, if that's something you want."

"Of course that's something I want."

"Bella," he says with a small smile, "I'm not trying to belittle or offend you here. You need to know what our goals are if you have any hope of reaching them."

I nod, still irritated. He waits for a few moments then claps his hands together, rubbing them in an anticipatory way.

"Ok, so let's jump right into it. Tell me about the violence."

I choke on nothing. He waits while I try to gather my thoughts, but they seem to be rebelling, flying around my head to quickly for me to harness and express them. Every part of me knows that I don't want to do this, and seems to be helping me evade it.

"I have copies of your hospital admissions, so I have a general idea, but -"

"But you want to hear it from me," I cut him off, pre-empting his words.

He laughs slightly, and nods.

"It was... it was always worse when we'd done something to make them angry."

"Like what?"

"Edward... he liked to argue with them, he gave them alot of attitude. Even while they were doing it, and that just made it worse."

"But they abused you regardless of whether or not you irritated them, no?"

I nod.

"Tell me about the first time they harmed you."

I submerge myself in the memory, recounting it in a mechanical voice as I try to separate myself from it.

_Edward and I had concocted a plan to get us out of here. _

_I was going to start screaming, get their attention, and when they opened the door, he was going to attack the blonde. I would incapacitate the dark-skinned man with a knee to the crotch and we would run. It wasn't sophisticated, or brilliant, but neither were the men, so we had a shot._

_At least, that's what Edward believed. I clung to the idea of freedom so strongly that I'd do just about anything to get it, so I went along with the plan._

_At first it had worked. My screaming lured them into the room and we had pounced, but we were unaware that they would have other means of preventing us from overpowering them. _

_Specifically, a taser. _

_Edward and I were now in chairs, side by side with our hands roughly tied behind our backs. The blonde walked around us in a slow circle, as the dark-skinned man leaned against a table, a pack of frozen peas resting against his bruised crotch. I could see Edward smirking at that from my peripheral vision._

_"So," the blonde said slowly and I flinched, knowing it was about to begin. "Did you really think you'd be able to pull that shit off?" he asked. _

_Neither of us responded._

_He walked over to me and leaned over, his lips almost touching my ear. _

_"Look over there, princess," he said loud enough for us both to hear, directing his free hand over to the doorway. I struggled to turn my head so he grabbed my chin and forced it to move, illiciting a small gasp of pain from me at his roughness._

_"Do you see that?"_

_I struggled to isolate what he wanted me to see as I stared at the door. Abruptly, I realised what he wanted me to see, and a lower whimper escaped as all my dreams of freedom were shattered before me. The blonde laughed lowly as he realised I'd caught on_

_"You can see it, can't you?" he taunted. A large deadbolt, controlled by a combination lock, held the door shut, meaning that there was no way we could free ourselves without the cooperation of one of the men._

_Trying to escape was completely pointless._

_Despair sank into my bones, and my shoulders sagged in response, feeling almost physically weighed down. He leaned back and looked at me theatrically._

_"You look tired," he noted. "Am I boring you?"_

_I shook my head slightly, terrified by the lilting tone of his voice._

_"I have something that should help keep you focused while we have our chat," he mused almost playfully, then I felt the sting as the volts of electricity shot through me. I screamed, completely unprepared for the pain._

_He laughed and removed the taser from my skin._

_"Awake now?" he chuckled._

_"Fuck you," Edward spat as his hands pulled against the restraints holding him in his chair. "You're enjoying this, you spineless asshole!"_

_"Oh, is the big man jealous of all the attention I'm giving his girlfriend?" the blonde taunted. I closed my eyes before I heard the low hiss of the taser and Edward's sharp exhale as he tried to cover up how much he was hurting._

_I knew exactly what was happening and exactly how much it hurt, but that didn't mean I wanted to see it._

"Did they always put you together when they did things like this?" Dr Reynolds asks.

I shake my head, both in response to his question and to try and clear out the dark thoughts.

"No... sometimes they'd make me watch while they hurt him, or they'd just take one of us but make sure the other could hear it. Edward would come back all bloody and bruised and would try to act like it wasn't that bad, not realising I could hear everything."

I remember it with crushing clarity. Edward's curses, his verbal tirades, then the sickening crunches of physical violence until he stopped yelling under the sheer force of whatever it was they were doing to him. He never once told me exactly what that was.

"Did they often take you on your own?"

I shake my head again.

"No... Edward would usually do something to make them angry on purpose if he thought they'd hurt me. He'd distract them, or offend them, so they'd take him instead."

"Did you appreciate him doing that?"

"No!" I cry. "He suffered so much, for nothing! I could have handled it, if he'd just let me! I was strong enough!"

The doctor pauses for a few moments, letting my words hang in the air. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, contemplative.

"You've never before acknowledged your own strength, Bella."

I sit back, unfurling my stress-riddled body, and think about what he's just said.

He's right.

"Do you truly believe that you'd have been strong enough to take anything they'd given you?"

His question isn't a challenge. He's simply asking me to think about and reaffirm something I've said that he obviously thinks is important.

"For Edward, I would have been."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"Yes," I murmur hesitantly, suddenly shy.

"Then I need you to tell me, out loud. Tell me that you were strong enough to take it then. That you're strong enough to get past it now."

I pause for a long time, turning the words over in my head. Eventually, I find myself able to push them out.

"I'm strong enough."

"Not good enough. Again."

I take a deep breath, then repeat the words.

"I am. I'm strong enough to do this."

Even I can tell how much more resolute the words sound the second time around. Dr Reynolds beams at me. I try to keep a straight face, but find that I can't help it.

I grin back.


	17. 17

Two weeks into my sessions with Dr Reynolds, or Garrett as I now call him, I finally gather the courage to talk to him about my Edward-related deficiencies.

"Bella," he asks, noting my posture, which apparently tells him everything he needs to know about me. "Do you have something you'd like to talk about today?"

"Other than the usual torture you put me through?" I tease. He laughs but says nothing, giving me a chance to speak.

"I... you know how we were talking about ways all my trauma manifests itself?" I paraphrase his technical way of speaking in a vain attempt to distance myself from the embarrassing subject matter.

He nods in acknowledgement.

"There's one... one that I haven't told you about."

His smile fades slightly.

"Bella, you have to be completely honest with me about everything you're thinking and feeling. How can I help you if you hide from me?"

His voice carries no anger or disappointment, but I still feel like hanging my head in shame.

"It's just..." I fumble for words, "it's kind of awkward to talk about."

"There's no reason for you to feel awkward around me," he sooths with a smile.

"I know that," I sigh. I do know that, but this stuff is just horrifying to talk about, even with Alice, let alone a grown man I've only known for a couple of weeks.

"Ok, lay it on me then," he smirks.

"Edward and I... we kiss and stuff, and that's great." Great is an understatement. "But whenever things get to the point of... progressing... I get really freaked out and can't do it."

I rush the words out, completely embarrassed by the conversation. He nods, seemingly unsurprised.

"Ok, now I get why you're feeling a little awkward talking about this with me," he laughs, and I scowl at him. His expression sobers and he gestures for me to continue.

"I've told you about the calm, and the serenity that I get from him, but it seems like when I get... excited and too involved in what we're doing, I just shut down."

Edward and I haven't tried to do anything beyond our one mortifying experience in the bathroom, mainly because he's terrified to touch me for fear of hurting or upsetting me. It took him nearly a week to realise that he could kiss me without inciting my irrational panic, and that week nearly drove me out of my mind.

"Can you describe how you feel when you shut down?"

"It's just... it's all a bit too much, you know?" I ask, even though he probably doesn't know at all, what with his not being a nut case.

"I'm going to ask you something delicate, and I don't want you to freak out," he warns me, as he always does. I brace myself, as I always do.

"Have you ever been involved in a sexual situation before?"

I feel like I'm going to be sick from pure embarrassment. I cover my face with my hands and nod quickly, begging whatever higher power is up there to somehow speed up time and get me through this conversation as quickly as possible.

"So you understand that a certain level of nervousness and excitement are standard feelings to have?"

"Yeah, but it's not like that," I try to explain. "It's completely overwhelming, like I can't breathe or think and I'm losing control of myself and we've barely even touched over the clothes. The idea of what would happen if we actually did anything kind of terrifies me because I can't handle it but I don't want to freak out again."

Garrett nods and smiles, as if the puzzle of my isanity is unlocking before his eyes. I wait for him to explain, and the seconds pass like hours.

"Despite your clear embarrassment about this," he says teasingly, "it actually makes quite alot of sense in terms of your PTSD." I try not to cringe, because I hate when he calls it that, but he insists it's the clinical description and nothing to be ashamed of or uncomfortable about.

"When you give yourself to another person in that way, it's all about giving up control. You're placing your trust in them, allowing them to experience a part of yourself that we are taught from birth to be a very guarded and private thing."

"I do trust Edward," I say with a slight pout. I trust him with my life, which is why my discomfort is so confusing to me.

"I know you do," he agrees, "but this isn't about Edward, so much as the fact that as a result of your abduction, you constantly struggle with feeling out of control. When we're engaged in sexual activity, our inhibitions, our limits, relax as physical need takes over. We lose control in the most primeval way."

I think I'm going to pass out from all the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"For someone who's been in your situation, the involuntary loss of control that sexual excitement brings would be frightening. You're fighting against your biological response, which is to give in to the feelings, and your learned behaviour, which is an intense, irrational desire to maintain your focus and control of the situation as best you can.

"The panic you're speaking of results when you can't reconcile the two."

I think on his words for a long moment, then nod. It makes so much more sense when he explains it, and I feel myself relax slightly as understanding seeps into my mind.

"But how can I fix it?" I ask, hoping desperately that he has an answer for me.

"You need to bridge the two feelings and the best way I can think of to do that is to talk to Edward. I know that he doesn't know about you and I spending time together - which you know I'm not thrilled about - but tell him that you'd like to try and explore things, at your own pace.

"Perhaps have him sit beside you and ask him to let you instigate a situation. You take things slowly, testing the waters as you go, and when you start to feel uncomfortable, you stop. Practice makes perfect and all that."

I nod as excitement begins to take root in my stomach. Garrett has explained my feelings to me, and offered me a way to solve what felt like a somewhat insurmountable problem between Edward and I. I want him, in every way, and now I feel like it could be possible.

We can have a normal relationship.

I smile ridiculously at the thought of that, and Garrett laughs indulgently.

"Feeling better now?" he asks.

I nod.

"Thank you, Garrett." My words are fervent and sincere. He smiles.

"You're welcome. However, as a doctor and a friend of the family, I feel like it's my job to remind you to protect yourself. Remember, if it's not on, it's not on."

I snort at the ridiculous slogan coming from his mouth, and he laughs.

"Get out of here, I'll see you in a few days," he says with a flick of his hand towards the door. I walk out of the office, feeling uncharacteristically lighthearted as I very nearly skip over to Esme, who's sitting in the waiting room reading what looks to be a cook book.

"Hello, sweet!" she coos when I make my way over. She tosses the book in her bag and stands, appraising me with her keen eyes.

"My, my, you look happy this afternoon. I take it things went well?" she asks, looking over my shoulder and waving at my therapist, and her friend. I nod happily. She doesn't push further than that, and I'm happy, because I can't think of a way to explain my mood to her.

When we arrive home I bound up the stairs, only to find myself disappointed when Edward isn't there. I wander through the house, checking rooms for him, only to bolt down to the entry way when I hear the sound of a door slam and Checker barking excitedly.

"Chubs, calm down!" I hear Edward chide and I move faster.

I launch myself across the way and into Edward's arms. He drops Checker's leash on the floor and wraps his arms around my waist, holding me to him and lifting me slightly off the floor. I'd kiss him senseless if it weren't for our location and Esme's proximity to us.

"I missed you," I breathe into the skin of his neck, then abruptly pull away as I realise how disgusting and sweaty he is. "And you absolutely reek."

He laughs as I take a step backwards and make a show of wiping his sweat off me.

"Sorry - we went for a run, didn't we bud?" he asks, looking down at the exhausted puppy sprawled by his feet.

Edward has been working out almost daily, either going the gym thing with 'Felix the Sadist' as he describes his trainer, or running with Checker. Even though it's only been two weeks, I can already see the lines of his body becoming more defined, moving from the slightly emaciated frame I'd come to know to a more healthy, not to mention alluring physique.

The lift in his mood has not gone unnoticed, either. Apparently, exercise-induced endorphins and a way to outlet his rage are doing him alot of favours.

He goes to get a shower and I feed and water my tired puppy, setting him outside with his ridiculously extravagent dog house. I watch him as he downs his food with almost alarming speed then drags his tired little body into bed, smiling the whole time at the cute way he totters about.

I head back upstairs and find Edward waiting for me there, showered and presumably smelling much better. I make sure his bedroom door is closed before bounding over and tossing myself into his lap. He laughs as his arms encase me.

"One of these days, you're going to do that and I won't catch you in time," he warns me.

"Pfft," I snort, "you'll catch me."

"I am pretty awesome," he muses and I cut off his egotistical monologue with a hard, quick kiss. I pull back and try to extricate myself from his hold, but he won't budge.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growls, holding me tightly.

"I don't want to catch your egotism," I tease as I struggle in his arms. "And this proximity to you isn't helping my case."

"Oh, so funny," he deadpans with an eye roll then kisses me again. I'm distracted from my teasing by the feel of his lips on mine, and before i know it my legs are wrapped around his waist and my hands are in his hair.

Predictably, he slows things down before I get the chance to gather my courage and tell him of my plan to try things out, pulling himself away from me and seating himself in the middle of the mattress. He pulls me over so that I'm mimicking his cross-legged position, our knees touching and our linked hands resting between us.

I can't keep the smile off my face when I look at him. I can only hope that he doesn't realise how deliriously happy he makes me, because lord knows his narcicism is bad enough as it is.

"I want to take you somewhere," he says after looking at me for a short while.

"Ok," I respond immediately, a product of my unfailing trust in him. "Where?"

Instead of responding, he answers my question with another one.

"Do you remember the list?" he asks. I nod my head, laughing with surprise, because I can't believe we didn't remember it sooner.

_I was leaning against the wall in the bathroom, watching as he washed the blood off his face. He just refused to accept that there was nothing we could do about our situation. He kept fighting and fighting, and the men would punish him harder every time he rebelled. His face was marred with cuts and scabs, that were constantly reopened under the force of the blonde's heavy fists… and whatever else he felt necessary to impart a lesson with._

_It drove me crazy that he refused to just accept our reality._

_"You need to stop fighting them." His eyes snapped away from the dirty mirror and locked on mine._

_"And why the fuck would I do that?"_

_"Because you're going to get yourself killed!" Him allowing himself to get hurt made me feel like a failure, especially when he tried to take punishments on my behalf. "You need to accept this."_

_"I'm not fucking accepting anything!" he spat. "We're going to get out of here. One way or another." The confidence in his voice somehow made me feel a little better. He was so sure._

_"You promise?" My voice was weak, and although I knew that he was most likely wrong, I wanted so badly to believe him. He smiled at me, pleased that I was on board._

_"I promise." He turned back to the mirror and continued gently patting at his face with a piece of wet toilet paper. He winced as he touched on a particularly bad cut, and I winced along with him. It was as though I could feel the pain in my own face as well._

_"And you know what I'm going to do when I get back?"_

_"What?" I asked. I was eager to hear his answer, and one of my own was forming in my head._

_"I'm going to take the boat up to my parents' place at Satellite Beach. I haven't done it for so long, and I really fucking miss it."_

_"You can drive a boat?" _

_"From your shock I assume you can't." He sighed and then nodded decisively. "You're coming with me then. I'll teach you."_

_"You're only saying that because you weren't there when I learned to drive." He laughed, obviously not absorbing the seriousness of my statement. "I'm going to lie in the sun until I shrivel up completely. And then, I'm going to go to a spa… massages, manicures, the whole bit." I looked down at my fingernails, that were jagged and completely unkempt. I'd felt so disgusting since I'd been here, I just wanted to feel pampered and lovely again._

_"A manicure?" he scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Of all the things in the world you could do, you want to pay someone to fiddle with your hands for a while?"_

_I rolled my eyes at him, irritated at his dismissal._

_"Clearly, you have never had a good mani before."_

_"Yeah, because I'm a guy."_

_"Shut your mouth. I'll convert you, just you wait and see."_

_"Bring it on." He smirked cockily, and I mirrored his expression, looking forward to the day when I would prove him wrong. Suddenly, the confident expression was replaced by a nervous one._

_"There won't be pink nail polish or any of that crap, will there?"_

_"We'll see," I deadpanned, laughing internally at the horror on his face._

The memories are some of the only pleasant parts of the darkest phase of my life.

"Of course I remember the list."

"Let's go to Satellite Beach."

"Alright," I agree. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Is that... can we do that?"

"We can do anything we want."

The words hit me much more strongly than I think he intended them to. While I know he's referring to the fact that the beach house is readily available for us, to me, they mean so much more. We're free. We can do anything we want to. The possibilities are limitless now.

A huge, face-straining smile bursts across my features. He cocks his head to the side slightly, confused by my overzealous reaction.

"What?"

"We can do anything we want." I repeat his words, an unmistakable reverence in my voice. He looks thoughtful for a moment, then his face lights up with recognition as he realises the deeper meaning. He smiles so beautifully it makes my stomach hurt a little bit.

"Yes, we can."

The words hold more meaning than he realises.


	18. 18

Naturally, my first phone call when packing time arrives is to Alice. She informs me that she's coming over, and when I tell her that it's completely unnecessary, she dimisses me, telling me that she needs to lay phase two of Operation Jasper anyway.

She arrives shortly later looking absolutely stunning. Alice is by no means an unattractive girl, but she's managed to pull of a look that's both casual and somehow mildly erotic. Despite her tiny stature, her legs look amazingly long and her hair almost makes _me_ want to touch it and I don't even want her like that.

He doesn't stand a chance.

"God, Alice," I breathe when she walks in the door, a large tote bag in her arms.

"I know, right?" she winks at me. "Is Emmett around?" she asks loudly, and he comes bounding out a moment later.

"Ali!" he cries, "did you miss me or something?"

"Always," she laughs and he goes to take her bag from her without seeming to think about it. Esme raised gentlemen. Jasper saunters into the room and pretends that he didn't know Alice was here.

"Hey guys - oh, Alice, hey."

His attempt at being casual is completely transparent. She smiles and winks at him then turns back to me, linking her arm with mine.

"Come on, let's get you packed. Emmett, can you help me with that?" She nods towards the bag and he begins to follow us. Jasper steps over and pulls it easily from his gangly brother's hands.

"I was headed up to my room anyway," he offers as an explanation.

"Really?" I ask, my voice taunting. "What for?"

"Oh... my phone."

Emmett pulls his own phone from his pocket and quickly dials. Jasper's pocket lights up and music sings out.

"Dude, your phone's in your pocket," Emmett states as if this isn't glaringly obvious.

"Oh well," Jasper fumbles, "this bag will probably break Emmett's back. What's in this thing, bricks?"

He laughs nervously as he tries to redirect the conversation. Alice rolls her eyes and continues up the stairs, me chuckling quietly beside her and Jasper a few steps behind. I notice her swinging her hips, and I'm sure he does too.

Jasper places the bag down on my bed and backs out of the room awkwardly, leaving us both almost crying with laughter the moment the door is closed.

"You're completely out of your mind," I gasp out.

"Whatever - Phase Two is almost complete," Alice manages to get out once our laughter slows. "Now let's work on your wardrobe for the next few days."

The following hour is a blur of 'this top and these bottoms' and 'wear this when you have beach hair' and 'they're great because they're slutty but not really.' When she does things like this for me, I really realise how well she knows me, and I hug her perhaps a little overzealously when we're done. She laughs and pats my back.

"Are you ok, B?"

"Yeah," I murmur, "you're just great."

"Tell me something I don't know," she snorts, and I smack her arm as I release her. She rubs it, pouting at me as if it actually hurt. I roll my eyes and zip up the suitcase. She picks up her now substantially lighter bag and heads for my door.

"Well, I'm going to head off," she sighs.

"I'll walk you," I offer, but she holds up a hand to stop me.

"I'll find my own way."

I laugh at the glint in her eyes and the smirk on her face.

"I'm pretty sure Jasper's in the living room," I tell her, and her smirk widens.

"Thanks. By the way, catch."

I open my hands just in time to see a box land in them. A box of condoms.

"Alice!"

"Don't be a fool, wrap your tool, baby girl," she chides. "Or his, whatever."

With that, she's gone, and I'm left, giggling in my room at her insanity. Edward walks in a few moments later to find me still laughing as I stash the box in the bottom of my suitcase. He wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind and inhales deeply.

"What are you laughing at, miss?" he asks and the sound of his low voice in my ear makes me shudder a little with happiness.

"Alice," I offer by way of explanation and he just nods because he gets it. He always does.

The next morning Edward carries my bag and his own down the stairs, only to be summoned by his mother into the kitchen.

"Edward, Bella!" she calls and he ditches the bags at the door before we make our way in. She's putting fresh muffins that would need to be held in two hands on plates.

"Come have some breakfast before you go," she says, gesturing to the plates.

"Oh, we're not hungry yet," Edward explains, "we'll eat on the road if we feel like it."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry," she states, her gaze even and a little bit terrifying. We seat ourselves at the kitchen table and she sets the plates down in front of us, taking her own seat on the other side of the table.

"Go ahead you two, before they get cold," she says pleasantly and takes a sip of her tea. I eat as much as I can force down, because they are ridiculously huge. After I'm done Esme dismisses us, reminding us to be careful, lock the doors - _and window, babies -_ at night, and to always, _always_ use sunscreen, _even if it's cloudy out, alright now?_

Edward rolls his eyes but my heart swells a little at her motherly ways. The grimace on his face when she kisses his cheek makes me giggle, until she turns it on me, then it develops into fullblown laughter.

"Now get out of my house, I'm lookin' forward to getting some peace and quiet around here," she teases, swatting at Edward playfully. He pouts at her but picks up the bags and walks out to the car, me following behind with a quick wave over my shoulder at his smiling mother. There's a nervousness in her eyes that she's trying to hide for our sakes, but I see it.

"Make sure you lock all the doors and windows at night!" she calls as we climb in the car, slight desperation in her voice. "Don't forget the rooftop balcony!" She's worried about us, and it warms my heart and makes me sad at the same time. I hope she knows that I won't let anything happen to her son, just as he won't let anything happen to me.

The car trip is long, and for the most part, boring. I take control of the music, having earned his trust with my prior displays of taste, and he drives. The conversation is easy but disjointed, comfortable silence filling the gaps. Sometimes he holds my hand, sometimes he reaches out to push my hair back over my shoulder while I'm speaking, sometimes he keeps his hands to himself - those are my least favourite times.

When Edward told me he had a beach house, I'd envisioned a cute little cabin by the sea, all wind-blown boards and shades of blue. I should have known I was wrong. When we pull up at the house, I'm blown away by it's magnificence. It's low key, and seems to fit in the landscape perfectly, but there's no denying the decadence and taste inherent in any building Esme Cullen gets her hands on.

"Wow," I murmur as I climb out the car. Edward grabs the bag and playfully scowls at me when I reach for my own. I roll my eyes at his adorable ways and make my way to the house, waiting behind him as he unlocks it. We walk through the foyer and into the main room, which holds the living room, dining and kitchen in one open area. The back wall is made up of large windows, doors meeting in the middle. Edward opens them and the windows slide back, opening the entire wall so that the back porch becomes a part of the room. Beyond the porch is a staircase leading down to the sand, and I inhale the salty smell of the ocean as it fills the room.

"This is unbelievable," I mutter and he turns.

"This is my favourite place in the world," he informs me, his tone full of unspoken happy memories, and I can't help but smile back at him.

"I can see why."

He crosses the room and wraps his arms around my waist. Contentment fills me to an extent that I struggle to comprehend, and I slide my hands around his shoulders, clutching onto him.

"I've got to get the food out of the car before it goes bad," he breathes and I reluctantly release him. He brings in the exorbitant about of food Esme packed for us to bring here and we unpack it together. Doing these stupid, mundane things with him brings me a ridiculous amount of happiness.

After everything is unloaded, I wander upstairs, eager to explore the rest of the house. The master bedroom Edward and I will be sharing is filled with light, and has the same sliding doors and windows as downstairs that open onto a balcony. The bed is covered in white sheets, gloriously soft to the touch and loaded with pillows. Esme's touches can be seen in every detail of the room, and that makes me smile.

I sit down on the end of the bed, kicking off my flipflops and running my fingertips along the small beads on the bottom on the comforter. I look up when I hear Edward's footfalls. He's standing in the doorway, so I wave him over, patting the space beside me. He smiles slightly and crosses the room at once.

This is my opening. I can feel it.

"I..."

I'm having so much trouble framing the words as I try to fend off embarrassment. I know I want this, more than anything, but the risk of rejection puts a dampener on things.

"You..." he mimicks, a teasing smile on his face. I don't laugh, I'm too focused.

"I want to try something."

"Try what?" he asks, his eyebrows raising a little.

"Do you trust me?"

I need to ask, to get the reassurance I crave, before I do anything.

"Of course," he responds resolutely.

"Then... can you let me do something?"

"... Sure."

I gaze at him for a moment, trying to pysche myself up. He's so pretty, and despite having seen him in situations most people can't even begin to imagine, I'm almost paralyzed with nerves about trying to do one of the most natural things in the world.

I lift my hand and brush it across his cheek. Down his jaw. Around his neck. Slowly, so slowly, I draw my body up, pulling his face down so that when we meet, it's halfway. I can almost feel his confusion as I kiss him, so I run my tongue across his lips, hoping to distract him and lift some of the weirdness from the situation. He responds immediately and I push him backwards, a hint that he mercifully picks up.

He slides back across the bed until his head hits the pillow, pulling me up with him as our mouths remain attached. I incline myself so that I'm by his side but still above him.

_Move at my pace - keep control_.

I pull myself on top of him, my thighs straddling his hips, and kiss him harder, trying to get my point across. His hands rest innocently on my thighs, blissfully unaware of my sordid intentions, so I gather my resolve and try to be a little more forward.

"Bella?" he questions as I start tugging at the hem of his v-necked shirt. His words are mumbled, almost unrecognizable as he squeezes them out between our joined lips. I pull back a little, lowering my face to his neck because I can't bear the thought of seeing rejection in his eyes. He strokes his hands up and down my thighs, an unwitting gesture of comfort.

"I just... I want to try." I kiss the skin there and feel his heavy exhale against my ear, his hands stilling.

"I'm... I don't know, Bella..."

He sounds so hesitant, and I'm not sure if it's because he's trying to protect me, or if he doesn't want to do this. I lean back, trying to figure it out by looking at his face.

"If... if you don't want to -"

"Believe me," he cuts me off with a wry laugh, "that has nothing to do with it. I just... are you sure?"

His fingers tighten slightly on me and all my insecurity evaporates. He wants me too, I can sense it, and that makes all of this feel a bit less terrifying.

"I want to try," I assure him, trying to inject confidence into my voice. "But... can we do it my way?"

I struggle to communicate my desire to take things at my pace, but he nods and smirks, seemingly oblivious to my embarrassment and discomfort. He pulls his hands off my legs and knots them behind his head, spread out below me.

"Absolutely, have your way with me," he states with a playful arrogance and I roll my eyes at him, trying not to laugh at the view before me... or under me, as it were. Contrary to what I thought he'd do - panic and deny me - he seems thrilled at the idea of me exploring my attraction to him. Even without realising, his every action seems to be intended to make me feel better, to contradict my weirdness.

The thought makes me lean down quickly and press my mouth to his, desperate to let him know in some tangible way just what he does for me. My fingertips trail down his chest and I lift his shirt, pulling it up his torso and over his head.

He removes his arms from their self-imposed bondage and helps me get the shirt off, placing his hands on my hips once he's done. I melt into him, revelling in his touch as I explore his body with my hands. I take it slowly, getting accustomed to the lines of him, memorising every detail in the hope that familiarity will ward off my panic. It seems to be working, as no hint of the discomfort of the past rises up.

My shirt comes off next. His shorts, then mine. All that separates us now is our underwear, and still, there's no fear. It's perfect.

Perfect, but somehow, not enough.

I'm kissing him everywhere, wanting to reach every part of him I possibly can. I want to consume him as he consumes me. I should be troubled by how much I need this, need _him_, but it feels so completely natural and I can't stop or slow down enough to question it.

His hands are on my waist still, flexing when my mouth touches any particularly sensitive place. I can sense his desire to move, to involve himself more aggressively in what we're doing, but he won't. He knows how important this is for me. For us.

I take my hands off him and sit back, still on top of him. He looks at me, understanding painted on his slightly flushed face. He thinks I've reached my limit. I reach back and unhook my bra, fighting back nerves. Not scary, traumatised-person nerves - normal, anticipatory nerves.

_Normal_.

I smile as the thought runs through my head, and he smiles back at me, his eyes trained to mine despite my increased level of nudity. He's perfect, almost frighteningly so, and I can't get enough of him.

I lean down and kiss him again, pressing our chests together. As our tongues twist together and our breathing becomes labored, his hands trail up my sides, grazing my bottom ribs them moving back down. There's no pressure from him despite his desire, which I can feel pressed between our bodies.

My hands move from either side of him into his hair, tugging him minutely closer and closing every gap. The more he gives, the more I want, a gnawing ache building in me that's driving my every move. As if he can sense my need, he presses a hand to the centre of my back and rolls us over.

_Perfect._

I barely notice as my head hits the pillow underneath me, but I notice when he pulls his mouth away from mine, taking in my face for signs of discomfort. I nod, a little too frantically, and wind my fingers deeper into his hair, drawing his face back to mine. One of my feet slides up his calf and I wrap my leg around his thigh. Pulling him closer, always closer.

But never close enough.

His hand follows, resting on the newly situated thigh, his other one supporting his body so his weight isn't entirely on me. The unmistakable sound of lips meeting and ragged breaths is all that can be heard until his hips shift slightly against me and a low moan leaves my throat. He matches it with a quiet groan of his own and I fight back my smile before it causes our mouths to break apart.

My fingers wrap hastily around the top of my underwear, trying to pry them off myself without him having to move from his place above me. I honestly don't think I could bear it if he was even an inch further away from me than he is now. He lifts his hips from me slightly and I whimper into his mouth, a desperate sound that would mortify me otherwise but I'm too preoccupied to care.

His fingers wrap around the other side of the waistband and together, we slide the garment down my legs. I love that he doesn't stop me, that he's letting me take this at my pace without questioning my every move. He trusts me, as much as I do him, and there's no need for doubt. No space for it between us.

The offending garment slides off my foot and I kick it away, distracted by the feeling of his fingers trailing back up my leg, retracing the steps he took only seconds before. He's soft, and so gentle, but there's a definite direction to his movements. He knows what he wants.

What I want.

One and the same.

There's no fear, no doubt. No nagging voice in my head telling me this is too much, that I can't handle this. His hand wraps back around my hip, so close to where I want him touching me, but nowhere near close enough. I flex my hips upward, telling him without words what I want from him.

His lips leave mine, trailing downwards. Over my jaw, along my throat, to my collar bone, the swell of my breast, then back. I suck in air greedily, struggling due to the sensations flooding my brain that make me feel as though breathing is a triviality. My focus is completely centred on every location that he is touching me. My fingertips dig into his shoulderblades, drawing him nearer still, and I choke out his name.

"Edward."

At the sound he looks up to my eyes, half-lidded and slightly glazed over. I place my hands on either side of his face, tracing over his cheekbones and wrapping my small hands around his jaw softly. He nods - just once - a question in his eyes. I nod back. Just once. An answer radiating from every fibre of my being.

_Yes_.

A hand trails inwards from it's position on my hip, and I feel as though it's on fire with how much of my attention it garners. It traces my slightly protruding hip bone, across where thigh meets pelvis, then pauses over bare skin.

His lips meet mine and I'm momentarily distracted, until fingers graze the place I'm desperate for, reaching wet heat and desperate want. My entire lower body shifts, trying to get closer. Whatever he'll give me and then some, I'm desperate for it.

Complete and total abandon.

Finally, _finally,_ the pressure increases, although his movements are tentative. He strokes over all the best places, making a slow but insistent circle, and I gasp into his mouth. I feel his lips twitch, a small smile, but there are so many other things drawing my attention. His mouth on mine, his hands on me.

One of my hands is around his neck, holding his face to mine, the other is pulling at the pretty white comforter, and I don't care if I tear it in half. Speed increases, and my hips mirror the tempo he sets, a dance of sorts moving to no conventional rhythm. My heart beats so loudly it seems to fill the room, his uneven breaths the only sound I can hear other than my own responses to his touch.

Gasp.

Moan. Mewl. Exhale.

A choked attempt at his name.

_Edward Edward Edward._

I can barely speak it, but it's the only thought that can permeate the thick haze of euphoria that is descending. I climb higher and higher as he moves faster and faster. Too much, not enough. I can't think about anything other than him, and how I need more.

Kissing is abandoned, sapping too much of my focus, and his mouth trails my upper body, mine returning the favor as I kiss wherever I can reach. I'm consumed, all my senses clouded by him. I need more.

One finger inside, then two. His thumb picks up the track his fingers had been taking, circling around and around. The two fingers curve slightly, getting to a place I'm not sure I knew existed prior to now, but it will never be forgotten.

My legs fall to the mattress, quivering slightly as pinnacles are reached that I didn't know existed. Up and up, and I think that I can't get higher but somehow I can and I can't imagine how it could be better than this because it's certainly never been anywhere near before. I make an attempt to speak.

"Oh my - I can't - please! Ed - Edwa- Ah!"

My teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder as my entire body curls around him. I'm shaking, panting, clinging as I drown in sensation, feeling it in every cell of my body. Toes and fingers curl, my back arches, and the world is starting and ending all at once.

I sink back down to earth slowly, feeling my body relax and fall limp beneath him. His fingers leave me, and I'm sad, but so so happy and euphoric and nothing matters - not in this moment. His lips find mine again and I can barely open my eyes but I kiss him back.

Relief, happiness and contentment settle over me, because I did it.

We did it.

I want to laugh, cry, cheer for myself and for us because nothing, not even my own insanity and ridiculous insecurities, can stop us from being together. Instead, I just kiss him again.

"Are you ok?" he murmurs, and I force back my heavy lids to smile weakly at him.

"Yep."

He smirks and I pull myself up to press my smiling mouth to his.

_Perfect._


	19. 19

**AN: Ok so the Indie Fic Pimp chose this story as their WIP of the week - there's an amazing review up on their site, and a banner by jaimearkin that is now up on my profile page. If you follow me on twitter, you would have seen my fangirl freak out and overzealous retweeting because needless to say, I was thrilled.**

**On with the show.**

After our successful foray into physical intimacy, Edward and I seem to exist in a thick cloud of happiness. We're all giggles and playfulness and teasing, and I revel in it. Victory hangs in the air around us, both of us a little smug. Well, _I'm_ a little smug.

Edward had declined my offer to return the favour, citing that it wasn't a big deal then excusing himself to the bathroom for a conspicuously long time. He emerged looking significantly more relaxed and I eyed him suspiciously, positive of what he'd been doing in there. He'd rolled his eyes and tossed me back down onto the bed, kissing and tickling and covering my body with his. We'd very nearly started back up on our prior activities when a phonecall from Esme intervened.

As much as I was a bit disappointed, I let it go. Now that we can do this stuff, we have all the time in the world. I'm unable to keep the smile off my face as another piece of normality clicks back into place.

Edward cooks dinner for us, and despite a couple of close calls and muttered curse words, puts together a pretty decent meal. He likes steak his burned beyond recognition, or by his description, well done.

"How can you eat that?" I scoff as I look at the charred meat on his plate. He glares at me for a moment then looks down at my appropriately cooked steak.

"As if you can talk, your's is so raw it's likely to moo at you at some point."

"Medium rare is widely accepted as the best way to serve meat, I'll have you know." My voice is snotty.

"Widely accepted by who - those who are yet to tame fire?"

I snort dismissively because I can't think of a clever comeback.

"Whatever."

He just laughs at me. I scowl and pick up our plates, darting into the kitchen to ditch them in the sink and grab the bowl of fruit I'd cut for our dessert. When I return to the deck, Edward pulls me down into his lap. Here we have the freedom to be together without having to hide from anyone and both of us relish it.

We kiss and eat and kiss some more and I throw fruit at him and then kiss the juice off his pouting face. It's ridiculous and cliched and so fantastic I feel like I'm going to explode. We watch shitty movies about 70s rock bands because they're his favorite and then we start getting ready for bed.

Getting ready involves bringing sheets and pillows outside and laying them across a large daybed that lives on the patio. According to Edward, there's no better place to be, despite what looks like a phenomenal master bedroom. The sound of the ocean and the low light cast by the moon quickly lull us both to sleep and when I wake the next morning, wrapped in his arms and unbelievably well rested, I concede that he's right. When he suggests our activity for the day, I mentally take back everything I've ever said about him being intelligent.. or sane.

"Come on, Bella. Stop being such a wimp."

"Oh, sorry," I scoff, "I didn't realise that being concerned for the wellbeing of one's limbs makes you a wimp."

He rolls his eyes.

"It's surfing, Bella. We're not traversing ice caves or digging up landmines, for fuck's sakes. Now let's work on standing up."

I'm lying on the beach on a surfboard, because according to Edward, pretending to paddle while face down on the sand is going to prove invaluable once I'm in the water.

"Ok," he continues, unaware or at least unphased by my lack of enthusiasm, "so you're going to pull yourself up without resting on your knees. One leg then the other, but quickly, ok?"

"You know," I muse, still on my stomach and looking at him skeptically, "they say those that can't do, teach."

He laughs arrogantly.

"Surfing is but one of the many, _many_ things I do well, babe." He winks at me, a lecherous expression on his face and I jump at the possible distraction.

"Wanna show me?" I ask coquettishly and roll onto my side, giving him a view of my bikini-covered chest. His eyes flicker down unwittingly and when they return to my face, I lick my lips in a blatant come-on.

"Bella," he warns, his voice low and a little husky, exactly how I like it.

"Yes?" My voice is dripping with suggestion.

"Not going to happen."

I scowl as I roll back onto my stomach and attempt to stand up on the board.

Half an hour later, I've got sand absolutely everywhere and what feels like a gallon of water coming out of my mouth and nose everytime I take a breath. Alright, that's a slight overstatement, but in my state, it feels accurate.

"I hate you," I cough out as I splutter and bang on my chest, my eyes watering at the burn of the salt in my throat. He's laughing as he rubs my back from his seat beside me.

"I'm sorry," he chuckles. "This usually happens the first time. It's all downhill from here."

I turn, giving him a filthy look as I punch him in the chest.

"You _knew_ this would happen?" I cry, then cough violently. My scowl deepens when I see him fighting back a smirk.

"That's it, you're sleeping on the front porch tonight!" With one more punch to his chest I grab my towel and storm back into the house, locking the bathroom door behind me when I go for a shower.

"Bella," I hear him say through the door, his voice coaxing. I ignore it. I hear the doorknob rattle as he unsuccessfully tries to enter and smile as vindictive satisfaction settles in my stomach. I take a long leisurely shower, getting the sand and salt off my skin and when I return downstairs to see him sitting on the couch, looking penitent, I decide to let go of my admittedly somewhat childish tantrum.

"Are you hungry?"

"Are you angry?" he responds, looking sad on purpose. I roll my eyes at his blatant attempt to suck up to me.

"Nah, I'm over it." I walk halfway to the kitchen and then turn, pointing an acusing finger at him. "But if you ever try that kind of crap with me again, you'll be in serious trouble."

He nods solemnly and then follows me into the kitchen, pulling himself up onto the counter as he watches me potter around putting lunch together. We spend the afternoon hanging out and watching movies because I'm in no mood for anymore outdoor activities.

Charlie calls in the evening. We'd never been the most loquatious pair, and while we'd been texting nearly every day since I'd moved in with the Cullens, this felt different. He tells me that when Edward and I get back into town he's going to come over because apparently we need to talk. That makes me feel a little bit sick, and I hold onto Edward's hand for the entirety of the conversation, using him as an amulet to ward off my panic.

Charlie tells me not to stress, that it's no big deal, but I don't believe him for a second. When I relay the conversation back to Edward, his face takes on a portion of the nerves I'd been feeling throughout the call, and I know he's trying to hide the full extent of it from me. We resolve to head home tomorrow so as not to put off the conversation any longer than we have to. I'm disappointed but know that the anticipation would have put a downer on our time anyway.

I can feel tension hanging thick in the air as Edward and I clean up after dinner. He brushes past me at every opportunity, making contact with fingertips, his hips, shoulders, anything. I relish it, feeling unusually needy in the face of the huge unknown we're facing.

I'm wiping down the bench when he comes up behind me, placing his large hands on either side of my body. I drop the cloth I'd been using and turn in his arms, and I see it - the fear and desperation that makes me ache as if it's my own pain. It's only a fraction of what I saw the night after the Emmett incident, but it's there, and it almost kills me.

"Hi," I breathe, not entirely sure why, but desperate to do something, even something as insignificant as the one word. He doesn't respond, he just looks at me for a moment, tracing the lines of my face with his deep green eyes. I hold his gaze when it finally meets mine, waiting for him. Just as I needed him to be patient with me the night before, he needs it now.

He lifts a hand, grazes my cheekbone with his fingertips, my lower lip with his thumb, then cups my jaw. Slowly, so very slowly, he leans in, brushing his lips over mine with a featherlight touch. Once, twice, three times. He pulls back and looks at me once more, and I see the wall he's been holding up in an attempt to protect me shatter before my eyes.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back to me, kissing him forcefully because I need this as much as he does. One of my hands knots into the hair at his nape, tilting his head so my tongue can pass his lips unhindered. He groans and presses me roughly against the bench. I know it should hurt a little but nothing transcends the bubble I've become so addicted to, particularly when he effortlessly lifts me onto the counter. My legs wrap around his waist and his lips trail my throat, his hips shifting against mine in the most delicious way.

Then, there's movement. He starts walking, with me entirely wrapped around him, and drops me down on the daybed we'd been sleeping on at night. He removes his shirt and crawls up the bed, covering my body entirely with his and making my eyelids flutter a little. There's just enough light for me to see the new muscle in his arms flex as he pulls his body towards me and I wrap my fingers around them greedily, holding him to me as our mouths meet again.

He covers me completely.

Everywhere at once.

So much.

Too much.

"Stop!" I cry, turning my head away from his mouth in a desperate attempt to suck in some oxygen. He's on top of me, and my lungs can't seem to inflate themselves.

"Bella?" he questions, but I can't look at his face right now. I need _space_.

"Get off me!"

A second later, the weight of his body is gone, but air still isn't getting in.

"Bella, what's wrong? Please, just tell me what's wrong!"

His voice is frantic.

"I can't breathe!" I almost scream, clutching at my chest.

"Bella, you have to calm down. Baby please, you need to just calm down." His voice is pleading and low and right in my ear but I won't open my eyes to look at him. His fingertips wrap gently around my wrist and I start to calm myself.

Breathe in, breathe out.

In then out.

In.

Out.

Finally, _finally_, my lungs are able to pull in and push out the blessed air again. Eventually I open my eyes and sit up on my elbows, adrenalin coursing strong. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, taunting me with evidence of my failure.

Edward is sitting beside me, his long fingers wrapped around my wrist and his face a combination of guilt, terror and confusion.

"What the fuck just happened?" he murmured, looking me up and down as if there's some visible explanation.

"I... I should have known. I got carried away, took it too quickly. I knew better than this."

I'm rambling, so angry at myself that I can't stop the words from spewing forth.

"But last time... last time was ok," he notes, rubbing salt in the wounds.

"Yeah, because last time we took our time, I did what Garrett suggested and it was fine! But this time we rushed it and it was all too much again and I -"

"Hold the fuck up," he says lowly, his voice too even to be good. "Who the fuck is Garrett and why were you talking to him about our sex life?"

"... His name is Garrett Reynolds."

Recognition lights his face, then anger sours it almost instantaneously.

"So you're telling me you spoke to _Dr Douchebag_," he sneers the name, "about our fucking private interactions? When the fuck did this come up in conversation?"

I pause for what feels like an eternity, in the vain hope that I can somehow talk my way out of this situation. His hurt, angry eyes stay locked on my face, waiting for an explanation.

"... During one of my sessions."

I wait for the deluge, for his characteristic rage to come flying out at me. I want it, because I deserve it. What he gives me is so much worse than anger.

He stands and walks inside without a single word, leaving me on the daybed panting, terrified, and completely alone.

**AN: You asked for it, ladies.**

**EPOV next.**


	20. 20

**EPOV**

_Dr Douchebag._

She's been seeing that _asshole_ for shit knows how long, behind my fucking back.

She lied to me.

She _lied._

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. There's an ache in my stomach from where the betrayal seems to have festered into a phyiscal weight, pulling at all of my organs and making me feel like I'm going to vomit. I keep moving, pacing the small foyer of the house because I really do think that if I stop moving I'll throw up.

She's meant to be the only one I can fucking trust. She knows that. I wouldn't have fucking minded if she'd wanted to see that condescending fucker every fucking day, as long as she'd told me.

_For all I know, she has been seeing him every fucking day._

I'm torn between running back outside to scream in her face, demanding she tell me every minute fucking detail of every conversation between the two of them, and getting in my car and getting as far away from here as humanly possible. I can't do the former because it's completely insane and would probably terrify her, and I can't do the latter because despite everything, there's no way I'd ever leave her alone and unprotected.

That's not to say that I'm not really fucking tempted.

I'm hurt, angry and just want to punch something, so I do just that. The first thing that comes into view is a surfboard, propped up against a wall in the foyer.

Bingo.

I run at it, as if it's going to try to get away from me, and my fist collides the second it's within arms reach. My sessions with Felix the Sadist have really helped my technique, but the board is strong, stronger than the skin of my knuckles, so after three, four, five punches, I'm bleeding and swollen and I don't regret it for a fucking second. To the contrary, I keep beating the shit out of the board, as if breaking it in half will somehow answer every question cropping up in my head at the moment.

Well really, there's just one.

_Why the fuck would she hide this from me?_

"Edward!" I hear her cry, the only voice in the world despite how angry I am. She runs over, her face blotchy and still covered in tears that fell after I walked away from her. It stings a little that I wasn't there, but I push the feeling aside, letting my betrayal dominate my emotional palate.

"Edward, stop! You're hurting yourself!"

She reaches out to stop my hands from moving, and I flinch away from her, not wanting her calming touch in the moment. I want to be angry - I need it. It's the only thing that's stopping me from breaking down like a little bitch.

"What, you want to hurt me yourself some more?" I hiss at her, immediately feeling like an asshole when her shoulders sag and a tear follows the path of the ones before it that are still marking the reddened skin.

"I'm sorry," she breathes. "I'm so, so sorry I lied to you. I just -"

"You just what?" I snap, cutting her off before she can give the very explanation I'm asking for.

"I wanted to be better." Her voice breaks over the word 'better'.

"Why? So you can fucking leave me behind?"

My voice holds anger and disdain, my tools of choice for hiding just how fucking broken and needy I am. Is that why she's been doing this? So that one day, when she gets the normality she craves so badly, she can leave my crazy, traumatised ass behind and make a real life for herself?

"No!" she cries, coughing as a sob cuts off the word.

"I thought we were going to do this shit together!"

"You weren't ready!" she very nearly screams at me. "You weren't ready yet and I didn't want to make you go, so I did it alone! You think it was easy for me - to go there on my own and talk about all that bullshit? Because it _really _fucking wasn't!

"But we want to be better and we can't do it alone, Edward!"

I'm stunned by her display. She never yells, and rarely curses.

"How _dar__e _you judge me for trying to get better!" she continues, uninterrupted by me as I try to absorb what she's saying. "All I fucking wanted, and _you knew_ I wanted, was for us to get past this! You have your training, and that seems to be helping, but what did I have? Nothing! So I spoke to him, and he's fucking _helping _me, Edward!"

Her rage seems to dissolve and a sob breaks on my name.

"How can you be so angry that he's helping me?"

The question, and her broken, sad little voice nearly kill me. My anger dissipates and I realise what a completely and utter asshole I'm being to her.

"Bella," I breathe and reach out to her, but she pulls away. She's never done that before, and it hurts, just another layer of pain on top of all the bullshit of the evening. Her shoulders are hunched over, arms wrapped around herself as she stands just out of my reach, sobbing quietly and looking so fucking tiny. Broken, and tiny.

I sink down to the floor, crossing my legs and she looks down on me for a moment before she mimicks the action. She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, hiding herself.

From me.

I drag my hands through my hair and rub them harshly down my face, trying to gather myself despite the complete whirlwind of bullshit that seems to be clogging my head and making me unable to say what I'm thinking. My knuckles fucking sting from my violent outburst, but that's nothing compared to the feeling that has settled in my stomach, and needs to be addressed first.

"I'm sorry," is the only thing I manage to verbalise. "I'm so fucking sorry, but can't you see I'm terrified here, Bella?"

Her eyes finally meet mine, and I'm sure she sees the embarrassing wetness on my cheeks, so I focus my eyes on her tiny little feet, resting in front of her and tipped with pale blue nail polish. It's a fucking stupid color but it suits her so well.

"If you leave... I can't - I'll..."

I can't finish the sentence because I don't know what would happen if she left. The very possibility of it makes me feel like I'm being torn right down the fucking middle. My choked, unfinished statement hangs in the air between us, but I can't bring myself to look at her face.

"This is what I don't understand," she muses. I don't look up, but I'm riveted, desperate to know what she's thinking, and if now is the moment she'll realise what a fuck-up I am and leave me here, broken and alone on the fucking floor, probably where I belong.

"You say that you feel like this about me. I've told you, a million and one times, that I feel the same way about you. I've begged you to never leave me, I've told you what it would do to me. All those times, you swore to me you'd never go anywhere, that no matter what happens, you'll stay with me."

"I will," I cut in. I'm not lying. I would, if she'd have me.

"But why can't you believe me when I say the very same words back to you?"

I just want to pull her into my arms and hold onto her, to prove beyond a doubt that she's not going anywhere, but she doesn't want that, and it feels like a slap in the face.

"Because you're over there," I state lowly, petulantly. "You're over there, and you're getting better, and I'm not. Maybe I never will."

"Don't say that," she says firmly. "You will. You already are. Your training is going so well, and when you're ready you can see someone - Garrett, or anyone you want. I know it's hard - I almost gave up after my first visit - but it helps in ways you can't understand until you're doing it.

"The way we live, the way we think - like every single thing is a threat, like we're never safe and no one can be trusted - it's not healthy for us. That's what I've learned. When we're together, we feel better, but we're not helping each other heal. We need _help_, Edward. It's not shameful or wrong to admit it.

"You know how much you mean to me, and it kills me that you doubt that. When we get better, those feelings won't change. I'm happy to wait for you until you're ready to face what happened to us, but I couldn't wait any longer. I wasn't going to force you to do something you weren't comfortable with, but I couldn't live with the fear and the panic all the time. I won't let those men control our lives anymore, I just can't."

I take a deep breath and process her words. Honestly, I'd never thought about it like that - that the men are controlling us still, even though we're free in the physical sense.

She's right.

"I... you can't leave me, Bella. I need you too much."

I see her nod slowly in my peripheral vision.

"But," I sigh, "I understand what you're saying, and I think you're right." I lift my eyes to her's, and her face holds no judgement. "Maybe it's time I talked to someone, tried to get past it all."

She smiles, just a little bit, and I can't help but notice just how fucking stunning she is. Through all my insanity and anger and accusations and total bullshit, she's fucking _smiling_ at me. I slowly lift my hand and reach it out to her, and thankfully, she takes it. I feel myself calming more and more with every inch she moves as she unfolds her body and places herself in my lap. Her legs move around my waist, her little hands wipe away the wetness on my face and then wrap around my shoulders.

She's my literal security blanket.

I throw my arms around her and crush her to me, overwhelmed with relief that she's willing to touch me again. Her soft hair brushes my cheek and I can feel all my irrational anger drifting away from me.

"It'll be ok, I promise," she murmurs in my ear. "I'll come with you if you want, but it's up to you."

I shake my head slightly, but with her closeness I know she can feel it. Honestly, I'm unbelievably fucking tempted to take her up on her offer, but something tells me that this is something that I shouldn't lean on her for. I've got to man the fuck up and do it myself, for both of our sakes.

"You were so brave, baby, and you did it on your own. I think I need to do the same."

She hums in agreement and presses her lips to the skin of my neck. My arms flex around her, and the next thing I know, it's morning and we're lying on the floor, still completely wrapped up in one another. I'm on my back and my body is fucking aching from being on the wooden floor, but her little body is draped over my completely and I can't help but smile like a fucking idiot despite the discomfort.

"Bella," I murmur and reach a hand up to gently brush her hair back.

"Huh?" she groans, meeting my eyes sleepily. She seems to abruptly realise where we are and sits up, rubbing her face and trying to get a grip on conscious thought.

She's fucking adorable.

"Hey."

"Hey," she replies, our completely banal and inadequate greeting hanging in the air. She looks tentative and curious, as if she's not sure that our conversation last night will still apply this morning. I take the initiative - for once - and speak.

"We should probably get organised and get on the road. I know we're both interested to know what your dad has to say, and I need to speak with my father, because God knows there's no way I'm going to be talking to Dr Douchebag."

The smile on her face and the sound of her laughter help me push down all the fear I have about doing this. Even though I'm fucking terrified of bringing up all that shit, I know it's the right thing to do, and I need to grow a pair and get myself together.

If she can do it for me, then I'm going to do it for her.

At the very least, I'm going to try my ass off.

**AN: Edward has a slight flair for the melodramatic, doesn't he? Don't act like you don't love him anyway, even though many of you weren't happy with him last chapter.**

**Just a quick heads up for anyone who's not sure - Bella was never raped or sexually abused in any way when she was taken. She was taunted with the possibility of it, but it never happened.**


	21. 21

The drive home is, in a word, awful.

It's as though the closer we get to home, the more panicked and frantic we seem to get. The very air in the car seems to get heavier and heavier, and although I hold Edward's hand the entirety of the trip - pulling it into my lap and clutching it between two of mine - I can't completely mask the sense of forboding with the sense of safety he emanates.

Charlie is the District Attorney, a lawyer to the bone - the man doesn't take things lightly. If there's some reason he requires a fairly urgent face-to-face meeting, chances are that we don't want to know what it's about.

As we pull up to the house, I feel like I may actually be suffocating. I can see Charlie's black SUV in the driveway and try not to gag. When we come to a stop, I fight the temptation to jump out the car and run away, dragging Edward somewhere pretty and safe, like the beachhouse we just left.

"Bella, it's fine," Edward coaxes from his seat, but I notice he's yet to climb out the car. "It's not like they're going to hurt us, or split us up. It's just a fucking conversation."

His cursing gives away the nerves he thinks he's been hiding from me, but hasn't. Sometimes, in his attempts to protect me from everything, he underestimates just how well I know him, and how easily I see through his defences. His well-intentioned ignorance would normally make me smile, but not today.

"Can you... can you just kiss me please?"

My words are needy, embarrassingly so, but I need a dose of the calming effect he gives now more than ever. He glances up to the house, noting that there is no one in sight, and then smiles, wrapping his hand around my neck and pulling my face to his. My fingers stroke his jaw reverently, in awe - as I always am - by how he makes me feel. The kiss holds no lust, it's all comfort and warmth and soft lips and his smell and everything I need in this exact moment. When he pulls away, I sigh, disappointed when reality sets back in.

With a sigh of his own he throws open his car door, and comes around to open mine when I show no intention of leaving the vehicle. He extends a hand for me and it's about the only thing that could draw me from the refuge of his car. I take it, linking my arm through his as well just to maximise our contact. We leave our crap in the car, forgotten under the strain of the moment as he slowly guides me into the house.

Grown up voices sound from the kitchen so Edward immediately begins moving that way. I pull on him, knowing that I don't have the strength to stop him, but he will anyway. When he does, I push my body into his, taking one last embrace before the deluge. His face rests on my shoulder and his steady breaths on my neck help me at least pretend that I can do this. He pulls away and then all but drags me into the room.

"Hey mom, dad, Charlie," he greets everyone as I incline myself behind him, hiding. Esme jumps out of her chair and runs over, embracing us both at once.

"Oh, I have missed you!" she cries, as though we'd been gone three months rather than three days. She pats down my arms as if she's doing an inventory of my limbs to make sure I'm still intact, and her eyes trail over her son in a similar fashion. "The house has been quiet as the dead without you two around!"

Considering that Emmett and Jasper have still been around, I struggle to believe that. Honestly, what with Edward and my tendency to keep to ourselves and speak in hushed tones, I would think things would be louder without us.

"Hi dad," I say weakly when I notice him over Esme's shoulder. He smiles gently under his moustache and waves, as if he's worried he'll scare me away.

His worries aren't that farfetched.

"Hey, baby girl," he replies, using his childhood nickname for me. I can't help but smile, just a tiny bit, as memories of fishing trips and ice cream and his awkward ways of expressing his love flood my mind for an instant. I cling to the warmth in my chest, trying to hold onto it as best I can.

Edward and I make our way over to the table, Esme flitting around the kitchen behind us. A few moments after we sit, she places a glass of iced tea in front of both of us and then takes her own seat.

"If you're hungry, you just let me know and I'll fix you something real quick, okay?"

We both nod, even though there's already a small platter of food on the table, and the idea of eating is completely off the agenda for the moment.

"So, what the hell is going on?" Edward asks, cutting through the pleasantries.

"Language, baby!" Esme chides, but he barely notices, his eyes fixed on my father and his, who both seem to be readying themselves for what's to come.

Abruptly, all the courage I'd tried to gather vanishes into thin air.

"Alright," Charlie says after a long pause, and clears his throat. "So I've been working on your case myself, and I've tried as hard as I can to keep you two out of it, because I know what things have been like, and I don't want to make you suffer if I don't absolutely have to."

I can feel the gigantic 'but' looming before he even says it.

"Unfortunately," he continues, and it's taking every fibre of strength I have not to run out of the room. "You two are going to have to be involved in the prosecution process."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut and the way Edward's body tenses and his hand almost crushes mine assures me he's feeling similarly. I squeeze back and he releases his hold before he's able to actually hurt me. I'm glad, because he'd never forgive himself if he did.

The information isn't surprising in the least, but the reality of it crashes down on us like a ton of bricks.

"Do we have to see them?"

Edward's voice is near silent, dead even, and utterly terrifying. I can almost hear his mind ticking over, trying to figure out away to act out his anger and garner some kind of revenge for what they did to us. I lean further into him, just to remind myself that he's by my side, and not anywhere hear the men. He doesn't look at me, but his arm wraps around my shoulder, holding me close and belying the fear he's hiding behind his fury.

"No," Carlisle steps in quickly, and I assume he can sense his son's burgeoning rage.

"We're hoping that a video testimony will be enough to satisfy the jury," Charlie clarifies, "but you will have to answer some questions about what you went through, and give some proper details. I'm sorry, but there's really no other way to punish those bastards for what they did to you." His eyes flicker to Esme. "Please excuse my language."

Our parents say nothing, waiting for some kind of reaction from us. They get nothing. I tremble silently at Edward's side, and he's almost vibrating with the anger he so desperately needs to outlet.

"Is that everything?" Edward asks, his voice empty and spine-chilling. Charlie and Carlisle look a little perplexed by our lack of response.

"Uh, yeah," Charlie says awkwardly, rubbing his neck in an uncharacteristically insecure move. My father is the picture of stoicism and has an infallible pokerface, but Edward and my behaviour seems to have penetrated.

"Fucking great," Edward growls, and stands up, "just let me know when the date is and I'll be there."

I try to stand with him but he shakes his hand free of my own. I lean back, trying to meet his eyes but he won't look at me. The pain his rejection causes festers inside me, stinging at my fingertips and behind my eyes, and gets worse with every step he takes. When I hear the front door slam, I feel like I might be consumed by the acid that seems to be pulsing through my veins.

"Bella, sweetheart," Esme coos, and only then do I realise that my cheeks are covered in tears.

"I'm - I have to go," I manage to choke out and flee the room as quickly as possible, running through the backdoor to the only source of solace I can think of now that Edward is gone. I dart over to Checker's pen to see that he's not there, and breathing becomes even more difficult when I realise I'm entirely alone.

I run back inside, past our frightened looking parents and up the stairs, throwing the door to Emmett's room open with a loud bang that I barely notice. There's no one in this room either.

Where is Checker? Have they taken him away from me too?

"Checker!" I call, starting to panic now. I move up and down the hallway, calling his name.

"Checker? Checker!"

"Bella?"

I see Jasper's head poke through his bedroom door and my panic burgeons further.

"They took him!" I cry frantically. "Someone took Checker and Edward's gone and I'm on my own and someone took him! Who took him? Why?"

"Bella, you need to calm down!" Jasper says, taking a step towards me. I take a step back.

"NO! I need him and he's gone!"

I'm not sure who I'm referring to.

He darts back into his room for a moment and emerges holding a ball of golden fur that is looking at me with confused, sleepy eyes. Relief almost cripples me.

"Checker!" I call to him, my voice shaky. His little tail wags from his position in Jasper's arms. Jasper holds him out to me and I run over, scooping him up and holding him to me, nuzzling my face into his soft fur. I'm so overwhelmed with relief that my legs start to wobble, threatening to give out under me.

"Whoa there," Jasper murmurs, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his room. He seats me on his bed and for a moment I'm nervous, because I've never been in here before. It's a similar layout to Edward and my rooms, only the colouring and furniture pieces are different. I take a small comfort from that, and then some more from the puppy in my arms.

Jasper sits himself on the bed beside me, maintaining a safe distance.

"Bella, I'm going to be honest," he confesses, a bit of embarrassment in his lovely accent, "I'm not sure what to do right now. Should I go get my mom and Carlisle? Where's Edward?"

The question completely shatters me.

"I don't know," I murmur through a sob that shakes my shoulders and nearly forces me to double over with the sheer force of it. "He left me."

"Oh, sweetie," he sighs, and reminds me so much of his mother. He awkwardly extends his arm around my shoulder and after a moment's hesitation, I lean into his side. We sit like this while I sob and comb my fingers through a confused-looking Checker's soft fur.

"Can I do anything?" he asks lowly, when my body stops shaking and the tears start to ebb.

"Can you -" I stumble over the request, coughing against my dry throat, "can you call Alice? Ask her to come get me please?"

"Of course I can, precious." He slowly removes his arm from around me and reaches for his phone. I tune out the conversation, spoken in low tones, focusing my attention on my puppy, smiling when he looks at me as though he can tell I'm sad, and it makes him sad too.

"I'm ok, baby," I assure him, patting his little head. He licks my hand, and I like to think he can understand me.

"She'll be here in eleven minutes," Jasper informs me when he hangs up, and I can't help but laugh weakly at Alice's specific time estimate.

"Do you need anything before she comes?" he asks, and I'm moved by how sweet he's being to me. He hardly knows me, short of being the crazy girl who's completely disrupted his family's lives, and who was running up and down his hall screaming for a puppy she thought had been stolen from her less than an hour before.

"No, but thanks," I smile at him, trying to thank him nonverbally as well. "I should probably go pack up some stuff."

"Yeah... you're welcome, Bella." He smiles back and it reminds me of Edward, so I quickly set the puppy down on his bed and leave the room before I end up revealing just how crazy I am... yet again.

Once I'm in my room, I yank a large bag out of the closet and set it down on the bed. I return to the open double doors, looking at my clothes and completely unsure as to what to do next. What will I need? How long will I be gone? Will I come back?

_Will he come back?_

I pull a top off the hanger, and I hate it. I hate it so much, so I throw it over my shoulder on the floor. My eyes fall on a dress, one I know well, but I hate it too, so I throw it. The pattern continues, until I'm on the floor, sobbing once more, in a nest made up of most of my clothing.

"Bella!"

Alice's voice. I can't meet her eyes.

"Oh, Bella," she says, and I can hear her approaching, but I don't look up. Instead, I look at the pile I'm seated in, wishing I had a pair of scissors so I could cut up all this _shit_. All this crap I used to love so much but it all means nothing now. I'll never get back the person I was, and all this fabric is just a sour reminder of that.

I hate it so much.

"Bella, you've got to get up," she breathes, reaching her small arms out to me.

"Why?" I sob.

"Come on, sweetie, please get up for me."

I just shake my head, completely despondent.

"Jasper!" she calls loudly, and I flinch at the sound. A moment later, I hear more footfalls and suddenly I'm being lifted and set down on my bed. I watch as Alice puts things in the bag I'd set out, and then she and Jasper clean up the mess I made. I want to tell them to throw it all away, to burn it, but I can't muster my voice.

Eventually, they finish their task. Alice comes over to me, and makes a point of making eye contact.

"Are you ready to go, Bella?"

I nod slowly, because I don't want to be here. I don't know where she's taking me, and honestly, I don't care.

"Can you get up?"

I think about it, trying to will my body into action, and then shake my head. My limbs feel weighted, and I'm so tired.

"Jas?" she questions, and then I'm being lifted again. I tuck my head into his chest so I don't have to see what's going on. He walks me down the stairs, I can feel it, and then I'm hit by sunlight, which makes me flinch closer to him. I'm completely powerless, unable to do anything for myself.

It disgusts me.

But nothing makes me more distressed than the sound of an engine cutting off and the furious voice I hear a second later.

"Bella? _Jasper? _What the fuck did you do to her?"


	22. 22

"What the fuck is going on?" Edward persists, his voice getting increasingly frantic. "Bella? Are you ok?"

I won't look at him.

I hear the sound of feet on gravel, coming towards me and I cower as close to Jasper, my unlikely protector, as possible.

"Back the fuck up." The venom in Alice's voice jars me, because I'd never heard it before. She thinks cursing is only necessary for those who aren't articulate to properly express themselves.

"Can someone please explain to me what the _fuck_ is going on right now?"

Edward is furious... he must be angry with me, with my weakness, that's why he left. I don't have the energy to face his anger right now, so I act like the coward I am and hide my face in Jasper's chest.

I hear a muted thudding sound that makes me think that Alice has just poked Edward in the chest.

"I'll tell you what happened." Poke. "_You," _poke, "are an asshole, so I'm going to step up and do what you're obviously incapable of and make sure she's ok." Poke. "Go brood and be a prick on your own time, because my best friend needs me right now. Jasper, put her in the car."

He sets me down, and I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the dashboard once I'm seated.

"Bella," Edward says, his voice oddly pleading. I look up slowly to see him standing next to the car, leaning his head in the window. He's so close to me, but instead of the normal comfort, I feel nothing.

It's absolutely terrifying.

"Leave it alone man," Jasper hedges, and puts his hand on his younger brother's shoulder. Edward shakes it off without a glance.

"Bella, what are you doing? What the fuck is going on?"

"I have to go now," I murmur, my voice flat even to my own ears.

"That's all I needed to hear," Alice states and puts the car in reverse, stepping on the gas. I watch lifelessly as Edward stands there, until Alice turns the car and starts down the driveway, putting him out of my view.

"What would you like to do this afternoon?" Alice asks gently when we're a few miles away from Edward's house.

"Sleep."

This whole experience has been completely exhausting.

"Sure, we can have a nap if you like," she agrees. I drag myself up the stairs of the house I know so well, stumble into the guest room and yank all the sheets off the bed. I need the familiarity, something that isn't strange and scary and too much to deal with because I'm genuinely worried I'm going to break.

"What are you doing?" Alice asks.

She doesn't understand.

"I just... it's better this way," I tell her before I curl up on the bare mattress. She smiles sadly, pulls the blinds closed and then leaves the room.

Alone at last.

When I finally wake, my body feels lethargic. My stomach is empty and feels sick, my eyes feel heavy and my limbs move slowly and woodenly. I force myself into the shower, hoping it will help, but find myself unable to stand for the required time. When Alice enters the bathroom, I'm sitting under the warm spray, hair soaking wet and my arms hanging limply by my sides. I'm naked in her presence, but I can't bring myself to care.

"Sweetie, you've been in here for a while, I think it's time to get out."

Her voice is so genuine and loving, and it makes me feel a little sick.

"Yeah, ok," I respond because I feel like I have to. She helps me move my tired, naked body out of the shower and I dry myself, pulling on the shorts and t-shirt she's laid out for me. I eat half of the meal she's prepared me, and avoid the questioning glances from her nosy mother who keeps entering the room as if she's waiting for me to do something crazy.

I move about in a haze, just wishing I could _wake up_.

"Bella, you're starting to freak me out here," Alice admits from her place beside me on the couch. "I know for a fact that you hate Scrubs, but we've watched two and a half episodes and you've said nothing. Talk to me, I'm begging you."

"Zach Braff is pretentious and unfunny," I murmur reflexively. "Then again, that seems to be the theme of this show, so maybe that's what he's going for."

She laughs a little at my familiar words.

"There's my girl."

"I should probably go back to the Cullens' at some point," I say to no one in particular.

"You know you're welcome here as long as you like, but I'm happy to take you back whenever you want to go. Esme and Charlie know where you are, so you don't have to worry about that. It's up to you."

"... Tomorrow."

* * *

Three days later, I finally return to the Cullen house. And only because it's Edward's birthday and I know Esme has been planning a family dinner for us all. I can't bear to disappoint her.

Alice walks me back into the house, where Jasper is waiting to take my bag. I suspect they've been liasing the entire time I've been away. I'd hoped that getting some distance, being away from him would have helped me gain some perspective, cleared things in one direction or another, but in truth, it hadn't at all. I'd existed in what felt like a thick haze, feeling lethargic and disconnected from my surroundings.

I resent him so much for making me feel this way. I miss him so much I can barely breathe.

It's a frustrating combination.

When our little procession reaches my bedroom, I hug Alice goodbye, nodding when she instructs me to call her or tell Jasper if I need anything and then lock my bedroom door. I also lock the door on Edward's side of our bathroom, knowing from past experience that people will try to get in that way if denied access from the main entry.

Normally, I can deal very well with prolonged periods of silence, but sitting on my bed now, every single sound scares me, makes me wonder if it's him moving around the house. I put my ipod earphones in and set it to something soothing but not too intense, nothing I have to focus on, and allow myself to settle back into the haze that has clouded my mind for the previous few days.

My phone goes off and I reach for it instinctively, assuming it's Alice. I don't want to worry her even more than I already have by not responding to her messages.

**Hey B, it's Jasper. How do you feel about unlocking your door and coming down? Dinner's ready if you're up to it. - J**

I try not to vomit and gather myself together, slowly making my way down the stairs to the dining room. I'm terrified of how he's going to respond to me, and even more frightened of how I'm going to respond to him. I'm confused on a fundamental level, because never before have I questioned anything he's done for me.

But when he left me there at the table, it started something that I'm now unable to completely force back down.

Doubt.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, he's waiting for me. I feel a little ambushed, and take a reflexive step backwards. He's staring at me, as if examining me for changes. I wonder if he can see them, even though there's nothing on the outside that would give them away.

I feel the relief that his presence brings warring with the new, burgeoning distrust that's been plaguing me. I can almost feel them struggling against one another, and it makes me slightly nauseous.

Suddenly, he's coming towards me. His arms wrap around my body, yanking me off the floor as he buries his face in my shoulder.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs, inhaling deeply. "I'm a fucking asshole and I'm sorry. _Jesus Christ_, I've missed you so fucking much, Bella."

I let him hold me, tentatively sliding my arms around his neck. Instead of crushing relief, the bubble I know and crave, I feel... confused, like it's tainted somehow. He sets me down and takes my face in his hands, and then hesitates.

"Happy birthday, Edward," I say quietly. He smiles and I feel my lips twitch up without a conscious command to do so.

"Thanks."

His tone mirrors mine, polite and a little awkward but oddly sweet. He leans in towards me and I tense a little, but relax when his lips press to my forehead instead of my mouth. He inhales deeply, as if seeing me and touching me aren't enough to prove that I'm here. The ever-present insecurity niggles at me, somewhat subdued but not completely absent.

"Bella!" Emmett crows as he throws the kitchen door open, chewing on a green bean that hangs from his mouth as he speaks. "Where have you been all my life, dollface?"

"Hey Em," I giggle, slightly in awe of his constant happiness and wondering if he'd somehow grown even taller in the last three days. Esme follows him out the door, pulls the bean from his mouth and playfully pokes him in the cheek with it.

"What did I tell you about eating before meals?" she scolds lightly. "Come on, y'all, dinner is waiting at the table!"

We file through to the formal dining room, a room I've never used before and needless to say, is magnificent. The long table is covered in foods that I know to be Edward's favorites, and I smile at the way Esme shamelessly dotes on her boys. I didn't realise how much I've missed the family dynamic of the house until we're all seated at the table together.

I revel in the noise, the constant chit chat, and the amazing food, trying as hard as I can to make it feel as comforting and perfect as it did only a week ago. It's so, so tempting, but still... I struggle. Something has shifted, and I can't pinpoint it exactly. It terrifies me. Edward holds my hand, presumably able to sense my tension, but it offers little comfort.

"Bella, honey," Esme comments through the meal, "whatever's wrong? You look as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and you've barely touched your food!"

Busted.

Edward looks over, scanning my face vigilantly to try and deduce what's wrong.

"Sorry," I apologise quickly, "I just missed you all."

"Awwww, aren't you just the sweetest thing," Esme coos loudly, her eyes filled with love. Carlisle rolls his eyes playfully and Emmett blows me a loud, smacking kiss, but their attention is diverted off of my antisocial behaviour. Jasper and Edward, however, don't seem as easily convinced, but I try to force down some more food and attempt to involve myself in menial conversation to appease them. Or at least dull their suspicions slightly.

The whole time I'm doing it, I can tell that I'm failing.

Edward's hand comes to rest on my bare knee while we watch Esme cutting the ridiculously extravagent cake she'd likely spent the entire day preparing. He squeezes, not hard, but just enough to garner my attention. I look at him and smile. I feel like there's a sourness to it, but he smiles back so hopefully he can't see.

Once dinner is done and presents are given and everyone is full and ready to retire for the evening, Edward and I head upstairs. We're holding hands, as we always are, but I'm mainly doing it because I know it would attract attention if I didn't. He guides us into his bedroom, as per the routine, but it all feels foreign anyway. It should feel right, but there's a tugging feeling in my chest urging me to get away from the place I'd come to see as my haven.

I don't want to be here, and it scares the life out of me.

I sit down in my usual place on his - our - bed, drawing my legs up to my body and wrapping my arms around myself. If Garrett could see me now, the first thing he'd comment on would be my defensive posture, but it feels so natural I make no attempt to change it.

Edward sits down on the bed beside me, his back against the headboard and his long legs crossed underneath him.

"Bella, I just... I'm so fucking sorry for the other day."

I meet his eyes, but say nothing.

"I was... I was just so fucking _angry_ that we still have to deal with those..."

He trails off, probably because he cannot conjure a strong enough expletive to describe the men. He takes a deep breath as if to center himself, then continues.

"I went straight to see Felix and beat the shit out of something." When my eyes narrow in concern for what - or who - he was beating, he holds up his hands in defence.

"A punching bag, Bella."

"Oh." Well that's better than a person, which wouldn't have entirely surprised me.

"Then I realised that I'd just left you here and I came straight back. I wasn't thinking, I was fucking _consumed_ by anger that we can't just move on with our lives, you know? And I'm sorry I just left you on your own, I know that was fucking unacceptable. I was losing my mind when I saw Jasper carrying you, and you wouldn't talk to me, but he explained after you left that you were upset by being left alone."

"And your solution was not to contact me for days?"

I can't help the bitter words that roll off my tongue. Honestly, he could have called every twenty minutes, but in the state I was in, I probably would not have realised.

"Bella, I was blowing up Alice's phone with calls and texts and basically wanted an update every hour on the hour." He looks a little sheepish. "She told me that you were safe, and that you needed some space, so I forced myself not to go over there, even though I really fucking wanted to."

This information does little to placate me. As much as I'm relieved that he didn't leave out of anger with me, I still feel oddly angry with him for leaving at all. We're supposed to look out for each other, deal with these things together - not run away from one another.

I'm holding up my end of a bargain that apparently means nothing to him.

He takes my hand, pulling it gently away from my body and exposing my legs to him. I feel vulnerable, something that has never happened with him, and it terrifies me. Something is shifting, and things I thought to be fundamental truths about our relationship are coming into question.

Nausea settles into my stomach, and his hands wrapping around mine do nothing to dispell it.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Bella. Can you forgive me?"

For the first time ever in regards to Edward, I'm not entirely sure.

**AN: Shiz is about to start changing around here, and I feel like you guys deserve prior warning, because I'm pretty sure some of you are going to hate me for what's to come.**

**Remember: I love you all, and don't want to see you suffering, so keep in mind that I do what I do with a reason.**


	23. 23

**AN: Wow, so apparently you guys are not happy with Bella or Edward! I hope that this chapter will put some of you at ease, even though you kind of hate my guts right now. A third party perspective should help clear up all of your troubles. There will be a HEA (in one form or another) but this story has a clear direction, and if you're willing to stick with it, I'll get you there eventually. We all knew this story wouldn't be a bed of roses all the time.**

**If you're not down with that, please close this story and go fuck yourself, because I really don't care.**

**Enjoy!**

"Something's changed."

Garrett looks unmoved by my statement.

"Bella, you'll be going through alot of changes in the near future as we help you to get back to a healthier way of thinking. You shouldn't fear it, it's all part of your recovery."

His pre-packaged answer irritates me to no end.

"No... with Edward. It's not the same anymore."

This is obviously interesting news to him, and he leans forward slightly in his chair.

"How so?"

I explain everything, forcing myself not to skim over the details I'd rather not discuss because I know that if I'm not honest, he can't help me. I tell him about our successful attempt at getting physically involved, which he commends despite looking a little awkward, then go on to tell him about the second, failed attempt.

"You got carried away and didn't think, I assume," he states with a slight, teasing quirk of his lips.

I nod, embarrassed beyond belief at the topic of conversation.

"I'd hoped it'd be better once we got through the first time," I admit, dropping my head to break eye contact.

"Bella," he says in a placating tone, "none of these measures are one-stop cures for anything. It's about re-adjusting, easing your way back into situations which, in the time of the crisis you went through, your mind has rejected. You'll get there - I have no doubt about that, but it will take time."

I nod, and then continue my story. I tell him, quite proudly, about Edward's decision to seek therapy, but all the pride in my voice seeps out when I get to the part of the story involving our parents. Garrett is apparently already aware that we'll have to be involved in the prosecution of the men, and tells me that Carlisle informed him so that he could help me prepare myself for it. This doesn't surprise me, so I continue, reaching the part about Edward leaving, my trip to Alice and the consequent weirdness that has been plaguing me since.

"He just left me there," I finally conclude, "and now I feel like... I don't know. We were always meant to look out for each other, and he just left me behind because he was angry. I know I handled things so poorly, but I was so... shocked, I guess? It hurt me so much, even more than I thought it would."

I can't keep the forlorn note out of my voice when I say this, and I can't meet Garrett's eyes. I feel so weak, something that Edward always helped to combat, rather than being the source. I can't help the childish resentment that festers in the back of my mind.

"Bella," he states, in a soothing way that is oddly foreboding. "I'm not sure you're going to like what I'm about to tell you, but I'm not one to sugarcoat and I think it's something you need to hear."

I nod but pull my legs up to my chest, trying to settle the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"What's happening between you and Edward... it's not unexpected at all. Actually, it's something that I knew would happen, and honestly, I'm pleased you've reached this point so soon."

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice louder than normal. "You wanted me to stop trusting Edward? You told me you were okay with our relationship, that you would help me make it normal with him, but you're happy that I can't trust him?"

My breathing is getting faster as anger consumes me.

"I trusted you to help me and you're trying to take him away from me? Have you been doing this the whole time, trying to turn me against him? Why would you do that? Did Edward's parents tell you to try and get rid of me or something?"

I'm very nearly screaming now, my arms thrown up in the air as I berate Dr Reynolds.

"Bella, calm down," he states evenly.

"No!" I stand up, too angry to remain seated or even attempt a pretense of civility. "I can't believe you'd do this to me! I _trusted _you!"

He holds my gaze until I eventually stop speaking.

"Please take a seat, and I'll finish my explanation."

Furiously, I flop back down on the seat, but only because I want to know why he'd do something so awful to me despite my faith in him.

"Bella, I'm not trying to turn you against Edward. Yes, your relationship with him isn't necessarily healthy for you, and I've been very honest with on my feelings about it, but I wouldn't try to manipulate you into leaving him if you didn't want to do that. I am a professional, and my trying to coerce you into something would serve neither of us."

As he says the words my anger subsides, embarrassment in it's place as I realise how theatrical and paranoid I sounded.

I'm just trying to blame Garrett for the last few awful days.

"Then why are you happy?"

"Because Bella, you're finally starting to realise that Edward isn't a superhero. I know it hurts, but the rose-colored glasses are coming off, and this is the start of what will hopefully be a normal relationship between the two of you, if that's what you want."

Normally, when he questions my commitment to Edward, I immediately interject, swearing fervently that he is absolutely what I want. This time, however, I remain silent and Garrett continues uninterrupted.

"Edward is an eighteen year old boy who has been through some horrible trauma, Bella. He's going to make mistakes, and he's not perfect. What happened between the two of you has led you to form opinions of each other that, while comforting, aren't rational. As much as it hurts, disappointment is an inevitability that you will need to get used to in life. Just like anyone else, Edward will do things that make you sad or even angry, and the fact that you're upset by his actions instead of blindly accepting that he knows best means that you're on the path to realising that.

"I know you feel disillusioned right now, but in reality, you're getting to know Edward in a way that you didn't know him before. This is a very good thing in terms of the two of you having a normal relationship, even if it doesn't seem like it just now."

He smiles softly, and gives me a few moments to mull over his words before he continues.

"You were able to go with Alice, to rely on her for support and comfort instead of solely relying on Edward. I know it may not feel like it, but the codependence you and Edward share is not good for either of you and being able to reach outside of your little bubble for help is absolutely a step in the right direction."

"But it hurts so much," I very nearly whimper.

"I know it does, Bella, but I promise you that the pain will be worth it. When your feelings for Edward transform into real trust - and even love - it will all be worth it.

"The events of your kidnapping mean that your mind has been forced into something of a more primal state. Rather than the logic that we normally use to deal with any challenging situation, you have reverted to relying on instinct. You think, and understandably so considering the circumstances, that Edward is the only person who can protect you - the only person you can rely on. Logically speaking, we both know that is not true.

"Now that you're back in the world, your instinctive reliance on him is starting to be combatted by your returning sense of logic, and it's confusing and at times painful. That's why I'm here, to help you see that while comforting in the immediate term, that instinct is not healthy. We will get you there, but it's going to take time and effort, and unfortunately, some unpleasant times for both of you as you readjust to the real world and what it means to have a relationship with someone."

I nod absently as I try to process his words. His ability to put things in perspective for me never fails to reassure and frighten me at the same time.

Logic versus instinct.

"In the mean time, I want you to think on something, even though it might hurt. Look at your relationship with Edward, and I want you to consider which parts are based on the feelings you have for him, and your desire to be with him, and which are based on the fear of what may happen to you - or to him - if you weren't with him."

"I do want to be with him," I murmur reflexively.

"I know you do, Bella, but I'm asking you to think about why."

As Esme drives me home from my session, I'm in something of a daze, thinking over what Garrett said to me. Alot of it was very unpleasant to hear, but I couldn't help but consider if there was any validity in what he'd asked me to do.

When I think of Edward, my first thought is usually how much I _need_ him... it had never occured to me that that might not be the right way to look at things. I want him in my life, absolutely, but I know that the compulsive urge to have him around me constantly is not reasonable.

I should want him, not need him.

This thought drives me into a deeper abstraction. If I didn't have the constant need to have him in my sight, to know what he's doing and that he's safe, how much would I want him around? How much would he want me around?

When I can't formulate an answer to those questions, I start to worry. This isn't right.

We're not right - everything that has transpired in the last few days has proven that.

And we're not going to get better until one of us does something about it.

Esme pulls up to the house and I slowly walk inside, too caught up in my frightening thoughts to really pay attention to my surroundings. I think I know what I need to do, but every fibre of the frightened, traumatized girl that lives inside me is screaming out in protest.

_Wrong. Not safe._

Never, in the time since I've been seeing Garrett, have the two parts of me fought against each other so strongly. Bella the kidnapping victim and Bella the normal girl - the two cannot exist together harmoniously, and I know which one I want to be. I also know which one is dominant at the moment, and ignoring it goes against everything that was so brutally ingrained in me during those forty seven days.

_You can't do this, you won't survive it_, the victim in me screams. _What if something happens? It will be your fault and you can't do that, you need him too much._

I try as hard as I can to subdue the instinctive panic, to let logic prevail, but it's exhausting. As I drag my body through the house to try and locate Edward, I wish desperately for the calming feeling he always gave me, hoping against hope that when I reach him, I'll be able to retrieve it.

I find him in the sunroom on the couch, reading a book. The light hits his hair and face in such a lovely way.

"Hey you," I greet as I walk over to him. He sets the book down on the small table beside him and opens his arms to me, an invitation I accept after a brief hesitation that I hope he doesn't notice. I'm trying so hard to override my compulsion to be close to him out of pure habit, and it's making me overthink everything.

Do I _want_ to sit with him, or do I do it because I feel like there's no alternative?

I settle beside him and smile a little when he pulls my legs over his lap, leaving me stretched lengthways across the couch. He smiles back as he takes to absently stroking the skin of my calves, almost as if he doesn't realise he's even doing it.

"So my dad made some calls today," he says. "I'm going to be seeing a... therapist," he struggles slightly over the word, "named Marcus, starting tomorrow."

He struggles over the words, his hands tightening on me slightly as he says them. Instinctively I place a hand over his in a comforting gesture.

"I'm proud of you."

My words are full of sincerity, because he'll never know just how proud I am. I can only hope that this Marcus will help him through it, and will help him see what I doubt he'll believe when I tell him myself.

That this is the only chance we have.

"Edward, I have to talk to you about something."


	24. 24

"Dad?"

The word resonates through the open plan of my house. My father's car wasn't in the driveway when I arrived home, but I ask anyway because the idea of being caught by surprise is anything but pleasant.

He's not here, and I'm alone for the first time in... I struggle to recall.

I used to relish my solitude - I'd put my iPod in and dance around the house in my underwear, singing into my hairbrush or mimicking music videos. I'd let out all the parts of me that I'd be mortified if anyone else saw. I'd sit in the bath for hours with the doors open and music playing through the intercom system and sit on the couch watching bad tv half-dressed.

I loved every minute of it.

Now, the house feels too big, empty and hollow and threatening and I don't really want to be here but it's the best way. Or so I'm telling myself.

_"I think... I think I need to leave here."_

_He looked at me, confused._

_"Um... ok, where do you want to go?"_

_"I think I should move back into my house."_

_"Bella, your dad hates me and my family loves you. Why would we move into your house?"_

_I looked at him sadly, desperately hoping that I wouldn't have to point out where he'd gone wrong. He waited for a response from me for an agonisingly long time, and then his eyes flickered with understanding._

_"You don't want me to come with you, do you?"_

_"I just... I think it's better if we do things this way. Get some space."_

_His face turned to a glare, something I'd seen many times before, but never directed at me._

_"Is this some fucking revenge thing for me walking out the other day? Are you trying to show me how it feels?"_

_I was horrified that he'd come to that conclusion._

_"Of course it isn't!"_

_"Then please enlighten me, Bella, because I'm obviously a couple of steps behind here."_

_"I was talking to Garrett -"_

_"Of course you fucking were," he sneered, but I continued anyway, trying not to break under the malice he was throwing at me. I knew he was angry and scared and trying to protect himself, but it still hurt that he would treat me like this._

_"We've been over this, Edward, and I'm not going over it again. He is trying to help me."_

_"By taking you away from me," he spat. "And you're going to let him sell me down the fucking river because he says that it's the best thing for you."_

_"Will you please just listen to me?" _

_My voice was filled with a combination of frustration and undisguised pain, which he obviously picked up because his eyes softened slightly and he nodded once for me to continue._

_"Garrett talked me through what happened the other day after we spoke to your parents about the trial. He told me that even though you and I have real feelings for each other," I stated the words clearly to reassure him, "what we have together isn't healthy, and I think that he's right. The way I depend on you, and can't do anything without being plagued by fear, that's not healthy."_

_Edward opened his mouth but I held up a hand to stop him because I needed to get this out._

_"He asked me to think about the ways that I want you in my life as opposed to the ways I feel like I need you here. We can't heal fully, or have a real, _normal_ relationship, unless we learn which parts of us are the broken, co-dependent parts and which are based on real feelings._

_"Does that make sense?"_

_Grudgingly, he nodded._

_"Maybe I'm missing something, but why the fuck do you have to leave for this to be resolved?"_

_"Because when you're here I feel like I have to be around you at all times, like I can't think properly if you're not in sight. I think I need to... wean myself off the compulsion to have you around, and I don't see how I can have you only a few feet away at all times and do that. I'm not strong enough. How can I know that what we have is real, when I can't tell if I'm just too broken and frightened to leave?"_

_"Do you want to leave?"_

_"No!" I cried, knowing how confusing my garbled diatribe must have been to him. "I just... I need to know that it's real."_

_"Of course it's real," he swore, taking my hand in his. "Yes, we met in a fucked up way, and yes, it's made things unbelievably fucking difficult. But Bella, I- I care about you so fucking much, and I don't want to lose you based on some hunch you have that being away from me is going to magically cure everything that's wrong with us and between us."_

_He dropped my hand and placed his back in his lap, looking uncharacteristically bashful._

_"You said we were going to do this together. You promised me."_

_"I'm not leaving - I'm just letting us get some space. It'll be good for us."_

_I said the words with more conviction than I was feeling in that moment._

_"How do I know that you're not going to get home, realise I'm really a total asshole and tell me to go fuck myself? What if something happens to you and I'm not there? What then, Bella?"_

_His tone got increasingly frantic as he spoke._

_"See? This is what's wrong with us. We should _want_ to be together, not feel we should out of fear of what could happen if we're not. I just want to get us to that point so we can be happy together and not frightened everytime we're apart."_

_My words seemed to finally be making sense to him, and I exhaled heavily._

_"So how do we do this?"_

_"Well," I sighed, because I wasn't sure how to continue. "I'll go back, and we'll see each other when we want to, I guess. We'll keep doing the therapy thing, we'll hang out, I'll probably be here all the time because I'll miss your crazy family," I joked weakly, "and we'll find something that works for us."_

_"I thought this was working for us."_

_The phrase 'a bandaid for a bullethole' came to mind._

_"Edward, we can be so much better than this, and I want that. Not just for me, but for both of us. I'm sorry, but I've made my choice. I'm not leaving you behind, and I still want to be with you, but I just... I want to do it properly. We deserve that normalcy in our lives."_

_"It's always about being normal, isn't it Bella?"_

_He stood up, putting space between us that made me immediately uncomfortable._

_"Nothing about this situation is normal! I don't know why you'd even want to be just normal! We can be so much better than the average idea you cling to! You're just fucking scared, and running from me, and I can't fucking believe you'd do this. If you want to go, then just fucking go, don't feed me your bullshit lines about caring about me and wanting to make this shit right... just go."_

_He walked out of the room and I tried to brace myself._

_He was just angry._

_Angry, and frightened because he doesn't know what's coming._

_This was the right thing for us._

This is the right thing for us.

The best way.

Edward didn't speak to me while I packed my belongings, and he wasn't there when I said my goodbyes to his family and left. I think they assumed that we'd had our own, private goodbyes, and said nothing of his absence. Esme made me promise to come over for dinner, even though I had to bargain my way down from every night to at least two times a week.

I cried a little on the drive home for the family I'd come to love as my own, but promptly wiped the tears away, embarrassed at my theatrics. They were only 15 minutes away and I knew I was welcome any time so I forced myself to calm down.

As I wander through my empty house, Checker on his leash and excitedly taking in his new home, a pang of the same sadness hits me.

I'm on my own.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it hastily, hoping that it's Edward although I already know that it's not. It's Alice, and she's worried.

**B - Jas says that Edward's been acting like a serial killer since you left, is everything ok? Want me to come over and we can do something awesome? - A**

I sigh heavily and respond.

**A - Come on over whenever you can. Have you noticed how ridiculously big this house is? I just did and it's kind of freaking me out. - B**

**B - How could you not have noticed? You've lived there your entire life, dummy. Be there in 8. - A**

I laugh a little and head for the kitchen, only to find that when Charlie is here on his own, the state of our kitchen descends to nothingness rather quickly. When Alice arrives we take a trip to the grocery store in the name of obtaining supplies.

"You know, I'm kind of pissed at you for leaving," she muses, chewing on a stolen grape. I stop putting apples - green ones, because red ones are gross - into the plastic bag and look at her, confused and a little hurt.

"How am I supposed to continue with Operation Jasper when you're not taking up residence in his home?"

Her playful smile makes me realise, a moment late, that she's teasing me, and I can't help but laugh and nudge her with my elbow as I pass by to place the fruit in the cart. She laughs with me, a carefree happy sound that helps to lift my sour mood, if only a little.

"I'm so sorry I've inconvenienced your quest to get a man indicted for statutory rape," I deadpan.

"You are not even remotely forgiven," she shoots back with a wink, "and I'll be 18 soon anyway, so the clock is ticking."

"Please don't do anything til you're legal," I plead seriously, "I'm very fond of Jasper and honestly, he's too pretty for prison."

"You're right about that. You know what he's not too pretty for? My bedroom. Or my shower - oh Bella, imagine him in my shower!"

"No thankyou."

She gives a salacious smile as her eyes lose focus, and I'm so, so glad she's not thinking aloud right now. We traipse the aisles, me collecting items I need for the house and her collecting things that she thinks look yummy and things that she hasn't eaten for ages and suddenly craves the moment she lays eyes on them. She chatters incessantly, and rather than irritating I find it soothing, the way you feel when you listen to a familiar song as you're busy with some other task. You may not be 100% focused on the sound, but it's there and it makes everything a little bit easier.

Even though it's June and summer has barely started, Alice talks about the pending school year - senior year. She's been waiting for this for years, to be at the top of the pecking order, although I can't really understand why. Alice has never exactly been the type to fade into the shadows, and in freshman year she was cast as one of the leads in the school's production of Grease, something that in the past was unheard of.

Her mention of school gets me to thinking - Edward and I had planned to attend his school together in the fall, but would that still be happening now? The ball is probably in my court with that regard, and I resolve to think it over at a later point, when I better understand my feelings about... well, everything.

Alice comes home with me, helps me makes dinner, dominates the conversation with Charlie then chooses a movie for us to curl up in my bed with. She acts like she's just being her usual bossy-boots self, but I know that she's trying to protect me, to let me process so that when I'm ready, I'll open up to her.

She may not understand everything, but somehow, she stumbles across the best ways to help anyway. I love her more in these moments than I ever have before.

"Alright, I'm exhausted so you're stuck with me for the night," she mumbles as she snuggles down into my bed and the credits for the movie are the only thing illuminating my room.

"Sure thing, Alice," I smile and settle down beside her, allowing sleep to claim me.

I wake in the night and it takes me a moment to realise what's going on. I'm not in Edward's room, and his body is not wrapped protectively around mine.

For a second, even though I know I chose this, I start to panic. I sit bolt upright and try to calm myself to no avail when I hear Alice's low, sleep-dulled voice.

"Bella, lie down," she grumbles, reaching out to take my hand. She uses it to pull me back down into a more conventional sleeping position, me settled on my side, facing her.

"Are you ok?" she breathes, eyes still closed.

I'm not ok, not even close, but I will be.

I have to be.

"Yeah, Alice. Goodnight."

"'Night."

And because I don't think she bought my lies, she keeps her firm grip on my hand until I finally manage to return to the solace of unconsciousness.

**AN: So there you have it.**

**Also, I don't know if you guys know this, but I write something of a crackfic with a good friend of mine, SwedenSara. It's called Smutiversity, and it tells the story of three authors who decide to attend a workshop on the fine art of writing smut... it's a little bit hilarious (and i'm not just saying that because I'm one of the writers.) Check it out, it's in my favorites section on my profile!**


	25. 25

I spend the first ten minutes of my appointment crying while Garrett says nothing. I'd been fastidiously avoiding talking about Edward and my confrontation with everyone else, but I'd known that he would expect me to tell him about it, and the fear of the impending pain recounting it would cause was driving me into hysterics.

As I finally gather myself together and wipe the last of the tears away, Garrett speaks.

"Bella, what has you so upset?" he asks, his voice particularly smooth and reassuring. Well, theoretically reassuring - it's not helping to calm me at all.

"I wonder if you understand how truly hard it is to tell you some things," I muse, trying to divert for just a little while longer.

"Bella, I have not experienced, nor would ever claim to fully understand your mental state at present, but I do appreciate that it is hard to bare your soul to another person, especially those things that don't want to come out. That said, if we don't get them out, they fester inside us. That's why we go through the discomfort of getting them out."

I fight back an eyeroll as my discomfort gives way to annoyance - just another of my coping mechanisms. Tired of his placating and slightly condescending monolgue, I cut to the chase.

"I left Edward's place. It's been weird and hard and scary, but I did it."

"Why did you do that?" he asks casually, as if he's asking about my choice in clothes.

"What do you mean, why? Because you told me to!"

"Bella, I never instructed you to do anything, nor would I ever because that is not my place as your therapist. I simply asked you to try and evaluate your relationship with Edward. Apparently, doing so led you to this course of action, and I'd like to know why."

"I... I just thought that it would be good for us... to have some space, that is. I still care about him, so so much, but I thought about what you said."

"I say alot of things, Bella," he says with a smile.

"About wanting to be with him as opposed to feeling like I have to," I clarify. "I wanted to work out how much was want and how much was that need, so I figured leaving would be the best way to do that."

He nods.

"It's a fairly extreme course of action, and not entirely what I'd had in mind when I spoke to you about figuring out your feelings towards Edward, but if you think it's helping, then I support it. _Do _you think it's helping?"

"He's... he's not happy with me, but I think that it's the best way."

"Why is he unhappy?"

"He thinks I'm going to change my mind about us once I get better, and that I won't want him anymore."

"Do you think that's the case?"

"No!" I very nearly shout the word, because as much as I'd had my doubts and fears prior to leaving the Cullen house, the time I'd taken to be alone and reflect had only made me realise how much I missed him when he wasn't around. Not because I was paranoid for his safety, not because I was worried for my own safety, but because I genuinely enjoyed his company.

"You sound much more sure of that than you did the last time we spoke," Garrett notes.

I nod, because I am sure. My coming to this conclusion only bolsters my view that my leaving was the right thing.

"Have you told Edward this?"

"He won't speak to me at the moment."

That's not entirely true. I hadn't attempted to speaking to him in the five days since I'd left the house, because I figured that he needed his space and that no good would come from me trying to force anything.

"Have you tried to speak with him?" Garrett asks solicitously.

Busted.

"No." I look down when I admit this, embarrassed at being caught out on my small fib.

"Why is that?"

"I just... I think he needs space. He was angry and hurt when I told him about this, and I don't want to upset him any more than I already have."

"Understandable. Are you sure you're not hiding from him?"

I don't respond, because I'm pretty sure that's exactly what I'm doing.

"I think both of you would benefit from the reassurance of having a conversation about this, especially now that you've both had a couple of days to think everything over and make sure you didn't make a rash decision. If you're confident in your feelings about Edward, tell him - it's probably something he would very much like to hear from you, and I think that settling your differences on the topic would make it easier for you both to deal with your situations as individuals and as a couple."

I sigh. He's right - I know that - but it's all very much easier said than done.

"So, how have you been coping being in your home without Edward?"

"It's... it's weird. My house is huge, and there aren't a million people in it like there used to be at Edward's place, so that took some getting used to. Having Checker around definitely helps, especially when Charlie is at work."

Garrett smiles.

"I suspected that Checker would be a good addition to your life."

"He is," I beam, unable to keep the smile off my face when I think of him.

"Bella," he starts in his soothing tone, and I immediately tense because I know that a difficult question is going to follow. "You are aware that your father knows the exact reason you were taken. I'm curious as to why you have yet to ask him about it."

"I... I don't think I want to know, to be honest."

He seems slightly surprised by my response.

"And why is that?"

"What difference does it make? Regardless of why, I'm still in this situation, and I don't see how more detail on the event will make it any more pleasant for me."

"That's... that's an interesting logic, Bella. Most people like to arm themselves with information, they see knowledge as power."

"I don't."

Knowledge breeds paranoia - ignorance is a far better option.

I know that eventually I'm going to have to come to terms with why I was taken, but that time sits somewhere in the hazy landscape of the future, and I'm quite happy with that arrangement.

"Eventually, you will have to deal with information about your abduction. I think that it might even help you to come to terms with everything."

I nod, because I know that I can't avoid it forever... that said, I feel like any more troubling information would likely break me, so I'm all for avoiding it as long as I can. I need to put myself back together before I start dealing with all the other bullshit... like the court case.

I close my eyes and force the troubling thought from my head.

"Can we talk about something else?" I ask, a little desperately.

"We don't have to talk about anything, because our time is up," Garrett states, and I shoot out of the room before he can say anything else to shatter the progress I've been making.

After my session I drive myself home, fiercing missing how Esme used to drive me back to the Cullens' after my sessions. I miss all of them... one even more than the others.

I head out back, pick up Checker and settle him on my bed as I weigh my phone in my hands. As if he can somehow tell I'm trying to pysche myself up, he crawls into my lap, snuggling down in the space between my crossed legs. His little head rests on my thigh and he looks up at me, his dark eyes shining through his golden fur.

"I love you too," I murmur, combing back the hair on his face and unable to keep the smile off my face when he nuzzles into my hand. I take some strength from the blind, unconditional love I receive from the small animal sitting on my lap, and select Edward from my contacts.

It rings seven times before he picks up.

"Hello?"

Despite the standard greeting, there's a weight in his voice which makes me sure that he knows it's me, and is less than happy to be speaking to me.

"Hey."

A long silence passes.

He sighs.

"What can I do for you, Bella?"

Another long silence.

"I just... I just wanted to call you."

"And you did."

I'm taken aback by the hostility of his words, even if his tone doesn't reflect it.

"Alright... I'll go."

He sighs again.

"No... don't hang up. What's up?"

"Nothing... I was wondering how you're doing. I miss you, Edward."

"You wouldn't have to miss me if you were still here."

I note that he doesn't return the sentiment. And that he sounds like a petulant child.

"Edward, I explained why we have to do this and I already feel like I'm making an improvement. I don't know how you're feeling," because he refuses to offer anything but deep sighs and childish comments, "but this really was the best way."

"Whatever you say, Bella."

I sigh now.

"How are you doing, Edward?"

"Fucking awful, thanks for asking."

"Look, if you're not going to talk to me, I'll just -"

"No, no. Look, it's hard, not having you around. You make me feel better, without even having to fucking do anything, you know? And I miss that. I'm not going to apologise for being a bit pissed off that you've left me. You're really really fucking important - I don't know if you realise how much - and I used to get to have you all the time. Now I get nothing."

His voice carries a hard, clinical edge, but it does nothing to disguise his pain.

"Oh, Edward."

"Don't - just don't talk like that, like I'm a puppy who's just been kicked. I'm angry, and therapy is a complete fucking joke, and I have to do it on my own. So if you called here looking for me to clear your conscience and reassure you that everything is just fucking peachy, I hope you enjoy disappointment."

As much as I know that this is just a defence mechanism for him, I can't stop the tears that start tracking down my cheeks when he treats me so harshly.

"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

He sighs.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are. Look, I have to go, I'll talk to you... later, I guess."

"Oh... ok, well -"

"Bye, Bella."

The dialtone rings in my ear.

"Bye, Edward."


	26. 26

"I'm an asshole."

I want to argue with that statement, but I'm too surprised to say anything because Edward is standing at my front door.

Edward is standing here, after three days of absolutely no contact wherein I convinced myself that he probably hates me. I'd spent every minute since the horrible phone conversation fighting the temptation to just pack my bags and go back to the Cullens' house, but I hadn't done it, because I was sure in the belief that he'd forgive me, even if it took him a while.

This is the right thing for us.

So, when he turns up, I can't speak. Instead, I just look at him, trying to convince myself that this is real.

"Uh... hi."

That's the best I can come up with. He looks at me questioningly, presumably trying to figure out why my brain function has decreased so significantly since he's been standing in front of me. I lean against the doorframe, trying to fight back the part of my mind that's sure this isn't real.

"Bella, are you ok?"

"Oh... uh, yeah I'm fine. Just surprised."

"Suprised that I pulled my head out of my ass so quickly?" he asks with a sad smile.

I smile gently back, and his becomes more genuine.

"So, can I come inside maybe?"

"Sure, come on in."

I step to the side and he enters, brushing his hand across mine as he does. He waits until I lead the way into the living room, seating myself on the large couch. He hesitates, probably unsure as to whether or not our old standards of contact apply, so I pat the cushion beside mine in invitation. He looks a little relieved, and seats himself.

A bizarrely awkward silence passes between us, and I wish I'd had some music playing or something before he arrived - anything to diffuse this tension.

"This is really fucking uncomfortable," he starts with a rueful laugh.

"Yeah, it's weird."

"Do you mind if I...?"

He reaches his hand out and I take it, feeling a little better at once.

"I missed you so fucking much, Bella."

"I missed you too."

I mean what I say, even though I don't regret my choice.

"I was a total asshole."

"I understand why you were upset."

But I'm not denying he was an asshole.

A long silence passes between us as we re-orient ourselves around one another. He holds onto my hand, and I settle back into the comfort of his presence, even if it is marred with all the tension and awkwardness caused by my leaving. I hate that I did this to us.

_It was the right thing to do._

"I had a meeting with Marcus," he says, breaking the silence. "Two, actually."

"How did it go?"

"Yeah... they were hard, and I got pretty pissed off at first, but I think it'll be ok."

I try to act casual, despite my almost unbearable desire to know every minute detail. Eventually, he continues.

"I spent alot of time yelling at him... and then he yelled at me back. It was really fucking full on, but he made me realise that my anger doesn't really get us anywhere, you know? I don't feel better, and neither does anyone else."

Wow.

I'm amazed, and curious about this Marcus fellow.

"I also told him about you... well, I told him lots of things about you, and how great you are despite my insanity, but specifically, I told him about you leaving. I think... even though it fucking sucks and at first, I was really really pissed off and hurt... you might be right. Marcus said he was, and I quote, impressed with your maturity in handling what must have been a difficult situation, particularly with my propensity to behave like an infant when I don't get my way."

I can't help but laugh a little at that, and Edward is smiling gently too.

"Am I really that hard to deal with?"

His question is laced with insecurity, even though he's trying to sound playful.

I pull my legs up onto the couch and swivel so I'm facing him.

"Yeah, you sometimes are... but it's ok, I guess. You know how strongly I feel about you, even when you let your tendency for... dramatics... get the better of you. I understand it, probably better than anyone."

"But you don't act like a fucking serial killer whenever you don't get what you want."

"I act completely differently, but no less healthily," I confess. He looks like he doesn't believe me.

"Do you remember what I was like after the party, when your uncle touched me?"

His eyes narrow and his free hand clenches into a fist.

"I don't think I'll ever forget it."

"That's what I always feel like doing whenever things get to scary for me... it's not like what you do, but it's definitely not good."

Understanding seems to light his face as he thinks over what I've said.

"Seeing me like that hurts you, just like seeing you get so angry you can't control yourself hurts me. That's why I wanted you to talk to someone, and from the sounds of things, you might have found someone who can help you."

He smiles, just a tiny bit.

"Yeah, Marcus is an asshole, but we... understand each other, at least a bit. That sounds fucking stupid, I know."

I shake my head and roll my eyes playfully, because it doesn't sound stupid at all.

Boys.

"So what have you been doing in the last few days?" I ask, eager for a change in topic.

"Absolutely fucking nothing. How about you?"

Trying to hold myself together without dying from guilt at how much I hurt you.

"About the same."

I think he can tell that I'm lying, because he strokes the back of his free hand across my face in a reassuring gesture. I push on, eager to avoid yet another difficult conversation.

"Checker is grumpy with me, I don't think he likes it here."

Edward perks up at the name of his best friend.

"Where is Chubs? I've missed him!"

I lead Edward out the back, where Checker is sulking in the pen that Charlie erected for him. He has all the amenities he had at the Cullen house, but he misses them, I can tell.

"Hey bud!" Edward calls as soon as the puppy is in sight, and the mass of fluff goes completely wild at the very sound of his voice. He's jumping around the pen, standing up on two legs and trying anything he can to get over to his beloved Edward, who is laughing as he jogs over and lifts him out of his pen.

"How are you doing, Chubs?"

Checker responds by attempting to lick his face off. Edward laughs and holds him back slightly as the puppy very nearly vibrates with happiness in his arms.

"Calm down bud, it's only been a few days," he laughs, then places him on the ground, crouching over his little body. Ear scratching, playful taunting and patting ensue as they reaquaint themselves after what was apparently an excruciating absence, and I can't take my eyes off the pair of them.

It's just so damn cute.

"Should I go inside and leave you guys alone to cuddle, or..." I tease, and Edward's head snaps around as if he's actually forgotten that I'm here. I giggle at his slightly bewildered expression. He stands, lifting a deliriously happy-looking Checker into his arms, and walks back over to me.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away there. You know you're my favourite."

He says it in such a condescending tone that I both roll my eyes and fight back a smile. He gives Checker a little more love and then places him back in his pen, swearing that he'll see him soon and take him for a proper run, which he correctly assumes I haven't done.

After their emotional farewell, he returns to my side and we head back indoors. Tentatively, he reaches for my hand, and I take it willingly, hoping I can reassure him that not everything we have is going to change.

"I missed you," I say quietly, a little overwhelmed by the truth of my own words. I'd been focusing so hard on how important it was for us to do this that I'd completely ignored just how much I enjoy his company. I relish it now, because it's not assumed and not indefinite.

This feels very much like a step in the right direction.

"At the risk of sounding like a total pussy, it makes me really happy to hear that."

I laugh and lean my head against his arm when he pulls us both back down onto the couch. He reaches for the remote and settles on one of the Harry Potter movies, the one with the tournament. I try hard to pay attention, and his eyes are focused on the screen as well, but I can sense the unspoken words hanging in the air between us, the anticipation of something that neither of us is entirely sure how to act on.

He lifts his arm wraps it around my shoulder, allowing my face to rest on his chest. The muscles are more defined here, as with everywhere else on his lean form, a result of his training. He's by no means a muscle-head, but it's noticable. He smells like himself and clean laundry, so lovely and warm and it spurs me into action. I sit upright and he meets my eyes immediately, his own full of questions.

Rather than making some assinine comment, I simply wrap my hand around his neck and pull myself forwards slowly, until our mouths are almost touching. Almost, because I'm not sure.

"Is this ok?" I murmur, beguiled by his proximity and struggling a little to pay attention to any signs that he may be uncomfortable.

He nods, and it brushes his lips against mine, just slightly, but enough to drive me a little insane. I close the gap entirely and sigh as soon as we're connected, a shudder sliding deliciously down my spine. My fingers knot in the hair at the nape of my neck and he pulls my closer with an arm around my waist until I'm straddling him.

There's no frenzy here, no pornographic grinding or desperate touches. I rest my behind on his thighs and our arms wrap around each other, re-acquainting after our absence. Although it has only been three days since we'd seen each other last in the literal sense, with all the insanity and scariness of recent times, we hadn't interacted in this way at all.

His tongue brushes mine and I sigh again, relief coursing thick through my veins when no panic emerges. My entire body seems to be warming and relaxing with his touch, and although it's different to the bubble that I used to crave so desperately, it's even more satisfying.

When he pulls away, I lean forward, keeping us connected for one last moment. He smirks at me when we finally separate.

"It's different now," he muses, and I'm surprised but not that he noticed what I did. Things are different. No less intense, but still... different.

"Yeah, they are."

"It's good though, right?"

"Yeah."

He smiles and leans into me, pressing another kiss on my mouth, as if to double check that what he's just said is true. I accept his embrace happily. When he removes his mouth from mine, he leaves our foreheads touching, and has to push my hair back to allow some light in.

"We're going to be ok, aren't we?"

Despite the phrasing, there's a confidence in his question. He knows the answer even as he asks it.

"We're going to be _fine_."

I try to fight back a cheeky smile as I reuse his favorite word from our time away. He's holding back one of his own.

"When I used to tell you that, you'd always get so grumpy with me. Oh, how the tables have turned."

I laugh a little, then realise that we're talking about our... abduction... and laughing.

No fear, no panic, no anger or violence or any of the scary stuff that I'd become so used to.

My smile grows even bigger.

"It's different now."

"Why, because it's you saying it this time?" he teases.

"No," I bristle playfully and then my expression turns serious. "It's different because this time, it's true."

He smiles, but persists with his teasing.

"Confident, are we?"

I nod, our foreheads brushing together, and then press my lips back to his. For the first time in a long time, I am confident.

**AN: Oh, Bella... let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet, shall we?**


	27. 27

Two days later I pull into the Cullens' driveway for an Esme-stipulated family dinner. When I pointed out to her that I'm not in fact family, the verbal lashing I'd received had been sufficient for me never to question it ever again.

"You're here!" she cries as she runs down the stairs of the porch, wiping her hands on an apron and looking like something out of a TV show set in the fifties. I abruptly realise just how much I missed her in all of her big-haired, southern, June Cleaver glory and when she basically yanks me out of the car to embrace me, I return it just as eagerly. She pushes me back, her hands on my shoulders as she looks me over.

"You're getting awful thin, baby girl," she scolds, even though I look exactly the same as I did two weeks prior. "Come inside and let me feed you."

I follow her inside, being dragged by her arm looped around mine. She sits me down at the kitchen island as she finishes preparing dinner, asking me about 'my daddy' and 'that lovely Alice girl my Jasper seems so fond of,' which makes me giggle a little bit. She behaves as though I've been gone for months, not days, soaking up every small anecdote I offer her as she moves confidently about the kitchen.

Eventually, I excuse myself and make my way through the large house, greeting Carlisle and Emmett, who are in the living room playing a rather intense game judging by the concentration on Emmett's face and the slight panic on Carlisle's. I head up the stairs to pay a quick visit to Jasper, who is immersed in homework, then I continue up to Edward's room. I hesitate in front of the door, because I haven't been here for a while, and the nervousness that abruptly courses through me stops me dead in my tracks.

_Don't be a baby_.

I knock then push the door open, only to find him changing. I slap my hand over my face reflexively.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!"

He just laughs.

"Uh... Bella, we've seen each other in some pretty fucked up states. You seeing my shirtless with my jeans undone doesn't particularly bother me."

Abruptly, I feel like a total idiot and pull my hand away from my face just to see him pulling a v-neck shirt on, which he then follows with a navy blue hoodie. I'm slightly transfixed by his appearance, and when he turns to smile playfully at me, I'm at a loss for words.

"Happy now?" he teases, "I've covered my shame."

"Shut up."

"Look, even my wrists are covered."

"...Shut up."

I'm red in the face and one more comment away from hiding my face in his pillow to escape his taunting. He smiles at my pique then reaches for my hand, pulling me with him as he flops down on the bed. I right myself and I end up sitting cross-legged in between his spread ones, our hands linked together loosely between us.

He looks down at our hands then up and my face, his smile softening from it's previous cheeky edge. I know what he's thinking, and I'm thinking it too.

We missed each other.

"Having you in my bed is so much more risque now that you're not living here," he jokes. "I should probably have locked my door."

My face is a mask of fake innocence.

"Why? What are you planning on doing with me?"

His gentle smile darkens as he uses his grip on my hands to pull me towards him until our chests are touching and our mouths follow suit. The outside world fades to black as we make out on his bed, my body on top of his and his hands on my hip, under my shirt, in my hair and every other place that he knows feels so lovely. Mine trail his face, lightly stroking his jawline - a place I've determined to be one of my absolute favourites on him.

When we hear a throat clearing, I jump off the bed like I've been set on fire. I then lose my balance, and end up collapsed in a Bella-sized heap on the floor. Edward looks down at me, and bursts out laughing. I sit up on my knees and scowl at him, only to realise that another person is in the room with us.

Carlisle.

My anger at Edward's mockery dissolves into horror. We're caught.

Carlisle stands in the door for a long moment, looking over the scene before him. Then... he laughs.

"Oh, stop looking so guilty, you two. We've known for ages what's been happening here. Esme just gave the whole 'no pregnancy in the house' speech in the hope that it would at least make you guys not throw anything in our faces. Edward, we've had all the necessary talks, and I assume that Bella, you've had similar ones. Please be respectful of the family and each other, and for the love of god, no babies."

Edward and I stare at him in complete shock as he laughs casually once more.

"Now hurry up, dinner is served."

Dinner is, in a word, wonderful. Esme has put together a remarkable meal - as per usual - and the meal is a constant blur of conversations and laughter. Rosalie has joined us this evening, and talks passionately about her dad teaching her the workings of classic cars, and pushes strands of messy blonde hair that have fallen from her sloppy ponytail out of her face as she gestures. Emmett is transfixed by her, and everyone at the table is smiling softly at her complete lack of awareness.

"And then he showed me this awesome way that you can - Em, why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"

Edward starts chuckling lowly as Emmett's eyes drop down to his long-emptied plate, mortified at being caught.

"Uh... no."

"Oh," she says, swiping at her cheek anyway, looking almost as embarrassed as he does. They really do make an adorable pair.

After dinner, Edward and I head back upstairs, Esme calling out behind us as we go.

"You leave that door open, now!"

Edward's resulting groan makes me laugh.

"Think that's funny, do you?" he growls, and throws me over his shoulder with almost disconcerting ease. I kick and squeal and struggle until he throws me down on the bed, closes the door firmly and the returns to me, pulling his body up over mine. My arms slide around his shoulders, hands taking their preferred place in his hair and I pull his face down to me.

He responds eagerly to my advance, his tongue twining with my own and his pelvis pressing down, our hip bones touching. My legs wrap around his thighs, holding him to me and aligning our bodies further.

"Jesus, I've missed this," he murmurs, his words cut off by my lips. I hum in agreement but refuse to break contact to actually speak to him. The hand that's not supporting his body weight comes to rest on my waist, sliding slowly under my shirt and up to my ribs.

"Is this ok?"

"Yeah," I breathe, then lean back from him and ungracefully pull my shirt off then push his hoodie off his shoulders. He reaches behind him to pull his own shirt off, and the skin to skin contact only heightens the intensity of our kissing once our lips meet again. My hands trail over the muscles of his back and shoulders, down to his slim waist and back up, revelling in the feel of him under my fingertips.

"Stay the night with me," he says lowly against my mouth and I shake my head, keeping our lips joined as best I can.

"I can't."

"You really can."

Our small argument is muffled by intermittent kisses.

"No, I can't."

He pulls back, looking frustrated.

"It's not like you haven't stayed here before."

I sigh deeply.

"Edward, I'm not going to stay here, it completely defeats the purpose of the whole me-moving-back-home thing."

He sits back, still straddling my knees and pulls his hands through his hair. I feel very exposed all of a sudden and reach down, grabbing at the first piece of clothing I find to cover my chest. His t-shirt.

"Why do you always have to fucking leave me, Bella? Why?"

His voice is almost a groan.

"I'm sorry," I murmur reflexively, hating his pain.

"It almost fucking killed me for you to walk out that door, and then, the first time I get you back in shit knows how long, you're going to do it again. One night, Bella! Why can't you give me _one fucking night _to be happy without the pain of having to watch you leave me behind?"

I sit up now, abruptly defensive.

"How many times do we have to go over this Edward? I'm getting so tired of having to repeat myself over and over. As much as I love being with you, I'm not going to set both of us back by staying here so we can avoid our problems and undo any of the progress we might have made!"

He climbs off the bed like I've set it on fire, standing at the end of it in what is, honestly, a very intimidating stance. He looms over me and I've never seen him like this, at least not with me.

He laughs sardonically and I just want to melt into the headboard to get away from his derision.

"You want to talk about _avoiding_, Bella? You want to get on your fucking high horse and judge me because I like having you around? I did every fucking thing anyone asked of me! I did the gym sessions, I even saw the therapist - not one, but _two -_ and you still want to talk to me about avoiding?

"You don't even know why were fucking taken, Bella! How's that for fucking avoiding?"

The sneer in his voice makes me unable to meet his eyes, fearful of the disdain I fear I will find there. Instead, I reach down for my own shirt, quickly replacing it with Edward's on my torso.

"You're being awful, and I want to go home."

"Ha!" he very neary shouts. "Well look here, little miss Lets-Deal-With-Our-Issues-Head-On is running away because she can't handle the truth. God, you are such a fucking hypocrite!"

I fight back the tears his cruel words inspire and try to maintain an even tone.

"We can talk about this once you've calmed down."

"You know when we should have talked about it? _Before you fucking left!"_

"We did talk."

"No, you fucking talked and forced me to accept what you thought was a good idea, even though it clearly applied to both of us... apparently my opinion on the matter meant jack shit to you."

"That's not fair, Edward."

He laughs again.

"What about this situation is fucking fair, Bella? Please, enlighten me before you do what you always fucking do and run away. Actually, do you know what? I'll save you the fucking trouble... you can see what it's like to be left behind for a change."

He grabs the shirt I'd just discarded, pulls it on and walks out the bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him. I jump at the sound, pushed over the edge by the violent action, and then burst into tears.

I pull my knees up to my chest in what Garrett would probably describe as one of my defensive mechanisms, but being in a little ball makes me feel slightly better, even though I feel no less isolated. When Edward's bedroom door opens, I don't look up, because I know already that it's not him. The bed shifts under the weight of a person and I smell Esme's floral perfume just a moment before her arm wraps around my shoulder. I lean into her as I cry it out, letting her stroke my hair and sooth me, even though it does little to help.

"Hush now," she murmurs. "Don't let that silly boy of mine make you so sad. He's just hurting and he misses you like crazy, and it makes him say and do things he doesn't mean. He loves you, I just know it and he'll feel royally awful after he calms his stuborn self down."

I nod a little into her shoulder, even though I'm not sure I believe her words.

"Would you like me to take you home, sweets?"

I nod again.

"Alright, I'll drive your car and Carlisle will come get me once you're safe and sound."

She bundles me into the car and we drive home listening to a radio station that she's selected and is playing gentle, swaying country music. Even though I'm not a huge fan of the genre, something about it does help to calm me, and by the time we reach the house, she has to help me inside because exhaustion has settled into every fibre of my being.

"I'm sleepy," I moan as she drags me up the stairs.

"I know you are, sweet."

"Please don't let him hate me," I plead, my voice slightly garbled when she places me on the bed and pulls off my shoes. I feel my familiar sheets being draped over my still-clothed form and can't help but relax into them a little bit.

"He couldn't if he tried."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm his momma, that's how. Now get some rest, I'll be downstairs talking with Charlie for a spell if you need anything, then I'm going to go home. Sleep tight, darling."

She kisses my forehead and exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as if I'm a young child. I very much appreciate the gesture, even if it is a little unnecessary and my last thoughts of the evening are about the kind southern woman who has become a mother to me.

And that tomorrow, I need to talk to Charlie, because I refuse to avoid anymore.


	28. 28

I snatch up my breakfast remnants, walk over to the sink and toss them in roughly. Then, I decide that it's not enough.

Smash. My glass hits the floor, sending shards everywhere as I watch.

"Are you _fucking_ serious right now?"

Smash. My plate.

"Everything we went through, and _that's _why?"

Smash. A coffee cup I've pulled from the shelf to my left.

"Bella, please calm down, you're going to -"

Smash, smash, smash. Three more cups meet their untimely end.

The loud clatter of a handful of cutlery follows quickly after.

"No! I will not calm down!"

I've never been a violent person before, but the sound of dinnerware hitting the tiles of our kitchen is making me feel just a tiny bit better.

My father walks around the kitchen island and grabs my hands, holding them down to my sides.

"Bella, stop."

"No... Let go of me! Don't _touch _me!"

I struggle against him, trying to smash my clenched fists into his chest, to force him away from me so I can break everything in sight.

"Bella... Bella, stop this."

His voice is low, a complete counterpoint to my hysteria, but somehow, manages to break right through it. My screams turn to sobs as I wilt in his arms. He quickly removes his hands from my wrists and wraps them around my shoulders, preventing me from falling to the floor.

"How can it all be because of that?" I whimper, broken and overwhelmed and hurting so badly that I can barely stand it.

"I know, baby girl," he coos, stroking my hair with one hand as the other holds me to him. "I'm so sorry, you'll never know how sorry I am."

"It's not... how could they do that to us?"

I'm pleading with my father, desperate for answers that I know he cannot give.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he tried again.

"It's not good enough! That reason... it's not enough! Not for all of this!"

"I know it's not, sweetheart. I know."

I shove away from him.

"No, you don't know!"

Glaring at him, I take a couple of steps backwards, directly into the mess of shattered china.

"Ow!"

"Oh, Bella," he says, lifting me out of the mess by my underarms as though I'm a toddler. He places me on the chair and I drop my head to my knees, sobbing at both the physical and mental pain wracking through my body, making even breathing feel as though it's an impossibility.

"Wait here," he instructs evenly, using his lawyer voice. "I'm going to call Carlisle to come have a look at your feet, then Dr Reynolds."

I just nod, not bothering to lift my head as I try to fight back more irrational acts of destruction.

I can hear my father's lowered voice as he speaks with Carlisle, then Garrett, who will apparently come over once Carlisle is done fixing up my feet. They sting painfully, but the tears streaming down my face are only fractionally caused by the pain.

When I hear the front door open and multiple footfalls, I force myself to sit up and hastily wipe the tears from my face. I don't need anyone else seeing me at my psychotic best... even though Carlisle's probably seen me in a worse state more than once.

What I don't expect when the door swings open is that Edward enters before his father, his eyes fixed on me.

"Holy fuck, Bella," he says, "what did you do?"

His voice holds none of the anger or irritation I would have imagined it would, and for that, I'm grateful, if not shocked beyond words.

He crosses the room as my tears start up again, a combination of embarrassment at my situation, confusion at his presence, and overwhelming relief that he's here. He gently, so gently, lifts me and seats me on the kitchen island, pulling himself up beside me as Carlisle kneels on the floor before me and opens his doctor bag. Edward wraps his arm around my shaking shoulders and I lean into him, resting my face on his body as I continue to cry.

"Does it hurt? Do you need anything?" he frets, his voice quiet in my ear. I just softly shake my head, because his being here, even though he's so angry with me, is more than enough.

"What are you doing here?" I blubber.

"My dad said you were hurt, so of course I hauled ass over here with him. He drove like a fucking grandma, I might add." I look down at Carlisle to see him scowling playfully up at his son, and can't help but smile a tiny bit through my tears. Carlisle meets my eyes and his glare softens, a small smile replacing it.

"Bella, sweetie, I'm going to pick out the pieces of... plate, I suspect, and then I'll clean you up. You'll be good as new in no time."

I just nod again and close my eyes, settling into the feel of Edward's body heat and his smell, so familiar and cathartic to me.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" Edward murmurs, his near-silent voice reminding me of many hushed conversations back in the room. Carlisle works diligently, obviously avoiding listening to our whispered dialogue.

"I found out why."

He doesn't need more explanation than that, and he sighs heavily.

"Shit, Bella. I know I was a royal douche to you last night, but I didn't want you to do this if you weren't ready."

"Everything you said was true, though."

"Yeah, and my mom ripped me a new asshole when she got home for 'acting like a wild animal in front of that lovely girl'." He switches to a southern accent when he quotes her, and it doesn't suit him at all. "We got properly talking after she smacked me upside the head and I realised that I really did handle things like a total jackass."

I laugh, just a little bit, at the idea of tiny little Esme sneaking up behind her much larger son and smacking him over the ear, then sigh.

"No, you were right. I needed to stop avoiding it. I just wasn't prepared for how I'd deal with it."

"Apparently, it pissed you off," he surmises.

I look up then, eyes firey as some of my previous indignation resurfaces.

"Of course I'm pissed off. Weren't you?"

He smiles a little.

"Asbo-fucking-lutely, I was pissed off. We went through all of that... for what?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly."

He just holds me while Carlisle finishes stitching me up, tightening his grip as I wince at the sting of the antiseptic. I relish his support, even if it is over something as trivial as a cut on my foot. That he's here at all means the world to me.

Once Carlisle's finished, he stands and pulls off his gloves, putting all the waste in a small plastic bag.

"Alright, I'm done here. Keep off that foot for a little while, it's going to be sore."

"Thanks, Carlisle," I say fervently.

"No need to thank me, I'm just doing my job, sweetheart. Edward, I'm going to go have a chat with Charlie, let me know when you're ready to leave."

Edward nods to his father, who then leaves the room. Edward jumps off the counter, placing himself between my legs so that we're face to face. I use my feet to pull him close and rest my head against his shoulder. He drops his face to mine and we stay like that until he speaks.

"How's your foot?"

"It's ok," I say, a little embarrassed at my childish tantrum now that the angry haze has ascended.

"I really am sorry about yesterday, Bella."

"I know... I'm sorry too."

"Are you doing ok, with everything?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I just feel so... short-changed. Some asshole that we don't even know, punishing us because of... of fucking nothing? It just makes me so angry."

"That's exactly how I felt... still feel. We're entitled to be pissed off, at least I think we are. But pissed off is better than scared, right?"

I think about that for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

He lifts his head, and I lift mine, our eyes meeting. Neither of our faces holds any particular expression, we're just taking one another in, gauging the truth of each other's words. After a few seconds, he smiles at me.

"I'm proud of you," he says, and I laugh dryly.

"Why, because I threw a temper tantrum almost level with something you'd do?"

He laughs.

"Well, in part, yes. But I'm mostly proud because you're handling all of this like a fucking champ."

I'm not sure why this embarrasses me, but it does.

"Oh... well, thanks."

He laughs again.

"You're welcome."

I place my hand on his neck and pull his face to mine, pressing our lips together. He responds instantly, but there's no lust behind this kiss - no fire. It's reaffirming, cleansing and innocent and everything lovely between us that is so real, and growing stronger all the time.

I can't help but smile, and he quickly pecks my upturned lips before pulling away, just a little, so our foreheads are still touching.

"Bella, I -"

"Bella?" I hear my dad's voice as he enters the room. Edward takes a quick step back to put us in a more socially acceptable position.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Garrett will be over shortly."

My dad quickly leaves the room, obviously feeling awkward having seen our intimacy.

Edward takes another step back. I look at him questioningly, but his face appears completely serene at the mention of my therapist.

"Well, that's my cue to get out of here, I guess," he says with a wry laugh. I look down, saddened by this news, but he takes both of my hands in his, squeezing gently.

"Hey, don't be like that. I'll you soon, tonight if you want to. Just..." he chuckles, "just give me a call."

I giggle at a little as well, the idea of Edward being a phonecall away still seeming a little odd.

"Will do."

Still smiling, he leans in and gives me one last, lingering kiss and then a peck to my forehead, then leaves to meet his father. I wait, sitting on the bench, until I hear the front door close signifying his exit, and then slowly slide myself down off the bench. Before I can go searching for a broom, Charlie re-enters the room with it in his hands. I reach out for it, and he mimes smacking my hands away.

"Not happening, missy. You take a seat at the table, Garrett will be here shortly and you guys can talk in here."

I sigh dramatically but follow his orders and hobble over to the table. I watch uncomfortably as he cleans up the mess from my outburst quickly and diligently, in true Charlie fashion, without saying a word. The doorbell rings and he brushes his hands on his expensive suit pants and goes to answer it.

Garrett walks into the kitchen alone.

"Well, hello Bella," he says casually. "I hear we've had quite an interesting morning."

I can't help but laugh a little at his playful smirk when he sits down at the other head of the six-seater table.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," I concur.

"Want to run me through it?"

"You say that like I have a choice."

He laughs, but says nothing, leaving it to me to tell my story.

**AN: OMG I stiffed you again... I double promise you'll find out why they were taken next time.**

**Also, do any of you ****write**** fics? I'm always on the lookout for something awesome to read (and rec to you guys) so if you write something phenomenal (which I assume you do, because all my readers are supertalented... and superattractive) let me know and I'll give it a looksee and compile a list of the most awesome of the awesome next time I post!**

**Love you all... please don't track me down and knife me.**


	29. 29

"... Bella, are you going to talk to me?"

"Sorry. I was thinking."

Apparently, I've paused for too long, trying to work out how I'm going to convey the events of this morning to Garrett. I take a deep breath, and jump right in. Quick and clinical seems the best way to do this.

"Ok," start, my words rushed for desperation to just get it all out, "so last night Edward and I had a fight. He told me that I was a hypocrite for calling him an avoider because I didn't even know why we were taken. I was angry with him, but I realised he was right. So this morning, I spoke to Charlie."

I trail off, my momentum faltering as white-hot rage starts pumping through my veins at the very thought of what Charlie told me.

"And what did he tell you?"

"You know already, don't you?"

There's a slight sneer to my voice that I can't keep out.

"I do," he nods, "but I'd like to hear it from you."

I roll my eyes.

"Of course you do."

He laughs a little but gestures his hand for me to continue.

"It was money! Money! We went through all of that, over fucking MONEY!"

"Not exactly, Bella."

"I know that! Some asshole I've never even met had been laundering money from the hospital Carlisle works in, and he was helping my father with the investigation."

"He was the star witness, actually," Garrett offers.

"Oh, fucking fantastic!" I cry sarcastically. "So because of Edward's father doing the right thing, and my father doing _his fucking job_, we got taken! Just so some douchebag who _broke the law anyway _could try to avoid prison time that he deserved! Argh!"

I try to stand up, needing a physical way to vent my stress, but the moment my injured foot hits the floor I hiss and sit back down.

I settle for reaching for the salt-shaker in front of me and hurl it across the room. When it hits the stainless steel of the fridge it makes a very loud and satisfying noise.

"Bella, don't throw things," Garrett instructs evenly.

I slump in my seat, angry and deflated at having been chastised.

"Now, I understand you're angry, and probably unsatisfied with the reasoning you've received for why you were taken."

"I haven't even _met_ the person who decided to take us! I only met the men that he hired to do the dirty work for him! Do you know how frustrating that is? I could have met him before, I could have seen him since, and I have no idea!"

"Bella, you would not have seen him since. The two men who took you were quick to reveal who they were working for in hopes of decreasing their own sentences, and paired with the fraud and embezzlement investigation, the police were able to take the man who did this to you into custody almost immediately. You have nothing to fear from him anymore."

"I'm not scared, I'm angry! I'm angry that I won't get the chance to see this man and do something to him! I just... I want to _do _something!"

"You will get your chance, Bella."

"When?"

My hands clench into fists at the idea of facing the spineless man who nearly ruined two lives because he was too much of a coward to face up to his own actions.

"At the trial."

Oh.

"You can testify about what you went through, and help put in prison for as long as he deserves."

"It's not enough! I need... I need justice for what he did! He didn't even look at us, or see what happened to us... he just, he just _let them do that!_ It's not enough! He needs to _suffer!_"

The tears are coming again now as I get to the crux of my anger.

"Bella," he says in his soothing voice. "Are you familiar with the stages of grief?"

"I think so," I murmur, wiping my face off in attempt to retain some semblance of togetherness.

"Anger is one of those stages. You're dealing with what happened to you... I know it hurts, but you're taking bigger steps than you may realise."

I meet his eyes then, silently asking for more reassurance.

"You're angry about what happened to you, which means you're no longer denying it, or the impact it had on your life. _This is a good thing_."

When he phrases it that way, I can't help but feel a little better. Knowing that what I thought to be completely irrational and ridiculous anger is actually a stepping stone to recovery, I start to relax a bit. My shoulders loosen, just a little, as I lean back in my chair.

Garrett notices the slight change in my posture and smiles.

"I have to ask though, Bella, if you're having issues with channeling any anger or aggression you may feel, please contact me. We can talk about it, or you can take up a method of dealing with it similar to what Edward does. Don't break any more plates, alright?"

He winks at me playfully, and I begrudgingly nod back, feeling pretty foolish now about the whole temper tantrum.

"Take it easy today, destress and do something that doesn't require much deep thought, alright? We'll talk in a day or two - whenever you're ready, but don't hesitate to call me if you need something."

With that, he stands, waves, and then leaves. I take a moment to process the events of this morning, trying to fight down another wave of anger as it bubbles up inside me. Charlie enters the kitchen with a happy-looking Checker tottering along behind. As soon as he lays eyes on me, he darts over, jumping up at my legs in a request to be picked up.

"Hey, precious," I coo as I place his ever-growing body on my lap, laughing and pushing him down when he tries to give me kisses. I look up at my father, loitering awkwardly on the other side of the kitchen.

"Is there... is there anything you want or need, Bella?"

"No, not at all."

"Alright..." he looks at the door behind him, "I'm gonna head into the office for a while. Please... please call if you need anything at all, won't you?"

"Ok."

Just before he leaves the room, I open my mouth again.

"Dad?"

He turns.

"Sorry about this morning."

"Don't be," he says with a wry smile. "I was pretty pissed off when I found out about it too."

I smile back at him gently until his eyes dart away, his awkward personality taking over once more.

"I'll see you tonight. Be good, kid."

I can't help but roll my eyes at the familiar farewell.

"Yes, dad."

He hesitates for a second and then quickly bustles out of the room, and I giggle to myself. He tries so hard to be there for me, and hopefully one day he'll realise just how much I appreciate it.

I sit at the table for a while, gently combing through Checker's soft fur, until he starts getting fidgety and bored. I set him down and he scampers over to his recently-acquired doggy door. I watch with an anticipatory laugh as he eyes it suspiciously, then pushes at it with one paw, as if to check that it isn't somehow locked this time. He pushes it again, letting it gain some momentum, and then dashes through it, trying in vain to get through before it swings back down and touches him, resulting in a surprised yelp when it gently taps his backside on his way out.

Sighing, I limp out of the kitchen and into the living room, picking my phone up off the counter on my way through. I scroll through my contacts, hovering over Edward's name and wondering if it's too soon to call and invite him over to help me pass my Carlisle-mandated day of rest. Rolling my eyes at my own insecurity, I call anyway.

"Hey, Bella."

"Hi."

I'm not sure why I feel so awkward.

"What's up? You sound weird."

He sees straight through my attempt to sound casual in one word, I note with slight amazement.

A one syllable word, no less.

"I feel like a totally needy stalker asking this considering you only left a bit over an hour ago, but can you come back over? I have a day to burn and nothing to do."

"Oh wow," he huffs, "way to make a guy feel special."

I laugh, the tension broken by his teasing.

"Shut up. Are you free?"

"For you? Always."

"Please refer to my previous statement about shutting up."

He laughs.

"I'll be there in 20, Miss Needy... or is that too long for you to be deprived of my presence?"

"Don't make me repeat myself again, Edward," I threaten. He just laughs again and then the phone disconnects, leaving me smiling on the couch and feeling better already.

He arrives, bursting through the door and panting theatrically while bracing his hands on his knees as if he'd run the whole way instead of driving.

"Did I make it? Are you still alive or have you died from missing me so much?"

"I hate you," I respond in greeting, but his cheeky smile incites one from me in return.

"Liar," he shoots back casually, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me up onto his hip like a baby. His newfound strengh shocks me more than a little.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Watching you limp around is kind of sad," he teases, "so I figured I'd carry you."

"Could you have done it in a way that doesn't infantalize me?" I huff. "Bridal style, perhaps?"

He gasps.

"Jesus, Bella... I knew you were into me pretty hard, but I think it's a bit early to be talking marriage."

I smack his chest.

"You are an asshole."

He drops me onto the couch and puts in the DVD he's brought with him, something about an amusement park in the eighties.

"Why this?" I ask as the opening credits run, "do you have a boner for the lead actress or something?"

"No... well, maybe, but it's done by the guy who did Superbad so I thought we'd give it a whirl. And the soundtrack is apparently awesome. If it sucks, we can just turn it off and fool around for a while."

"What is with you today?" I ask, playfully exasperated.

"You love it."

I refuse to dignify his answer with a response, mainly because he can tell when I'm lying. After a short while spent sulking at his crude comments, I settle into his side as we watch the movie, his arm around my shoulders. I'm disrupted when he playfully attempts to subtly grope me when a small sexual scene occurs, but we quickly settle back into a comfortable position. Things between us have always felt so natural, but now it's an entirely different sensation. We're doing things that everyone does, experiencing rites of passage as opposed to horrible traumas and their resulting fall out.

I feel... normal.

A small part of me is troubled by how much I crave to be average, but nothing about my life has been average in so long, so I push it down and let myself enjoy the feeling. I'd had enough of scary and broken for one day.

**AN: So... there it is.**

**Also, to everyone who sent me their work - a giant thankyou! I did read something by everyone and tried my best to leave a review here and there... RL fucked me up the butt this past two weeks but i really did try my best! Btw, i was right - you are all very talented (and attractive).**


	30. 30

By the time the movie is finished, Edward is asleep, which amuses me considering how eager he'd been to watch it. I lean in close, so close that my mouth brushes his ear when I speak.

"Rise and shine!"

Not so much speak as yell.

He jolts awake, almost knocking me off the couch with the force of his movements. Before I can topple over, he quickly wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his lap and safely away from the floor, for which I'm grateful.

"That was," he pauses and yawns, "extremely unkind of you, Bella."

I smile innocently.

"I was just rousing you from your sleep so that you can get a good night's rest tonight. It was actually rather generous of me to do you that service."

He narrows his eyes at me, and I can't help the laugh that bubbles from my lips.

"You're in an awfully precarious position to be teasing me," he warns, then almost drops me down onto the floor, illiciting an indelicate squeal as I struggle in his arms.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly and it's my turn to glare at him.

"You're nowhere near as funny as you think you are," I huff. He just rolls his eyes and settles me closer to him on his lap, leaving almost negligible space between us, not that it particularly bothers me.

"So what did you think of the movie?" I ask solemnly, both of us well aware that he slept through the majority of it. The fingers of one of my hands comb through the hair at his nape as I ask this, and he leans into it in a fashion that reminds me of Checker.

"It was brilliant," he responds distractedly, "a revelation in film, blah blah blah. Come here."

He leans in quickly and kisses me, and my fingers tighten in his hair as I move closer. I hum gently when he shifts us, laying me out across the couch with his body inclined over me. I release his hair, settling my arms around his increasingly large biceps, then slide them up around his neck to pull him closer as lips and tongues meet in their familiar dance.

What starts as leisurely kissing soon increases in pace as affection gives way to desire, our shirts making a small pile on the floor as they fall together. I wrap my injured leg around his thigh, taking care so as not to brush it against anything accidentally and he drops from his hands to his elbows so that our newly bared chests are touching.

No words are exchanged, just soft hums and low moans, ragged breaths and heavy exhalations as we get as close as we can, but somehow, not remotely close enough.

Slowly - too slowly, because he's worried I'll have one of my bouts of insanity - he slides the hand that is resting on my knee up my thigh, over my hipbone and up my stomach, until it's gently rubbing my ribcage. I arch my back to bring his hand closer to try and convince him that I'm fine without having to stop kissing him and speak, and thankfully he gets the message, moving his hand up to graze the underside of my breast.

Thank god.

I moan, just a little bit, giving more wordless encouragement. He mirrors it with a quiet one of his own and my lips quirk up in victory as my hands drift from his neck down the newly acquired contours of his back muscles. All his working out has done more than just curb his temper. My wondering hands then drift under him, along his abs and belly, trailing through a small but promisingly named happy trail until they are impeded on their travels by his belt buckle.

He gasps a little when I reach it and his hands momentarily pause on their palming of my chest.

Thoroughly encouraged by his reaction, I begin to undo the belt... and fail miserably. My hands fumble with it, trying in vain to pull it from the loops of his jeans so that I can get the wretched thing undone. When he reaches down I worry that he's going to put a stop to things, but he effortlessly slides the belt open, allowing me the small satisfaction of getting his button fly undone myself, even if it is a little clumsy.

As my hand slides under the waistband of his jeans, I abruptly realise that we haven't done this before, and my hands hesitate, something which doesn't go unnoticed by Edward. He pulls his lips from mine, slides them along my cheek until they're at my ear and I can feel his breath on my skin, making my shudder slightly.

"We don't have to do this," he murmurs, his voice barely louder than a breath as he misreads my hesitance for discomfort.

"I think we do," I mumble back, my words muffled by the skin of his neck as I kiss him, letting my tongue flick out before I pull back. I slide my hand out of his jeans and move it to his hips, making clear my desire to get them off as soon as possible. He pulls his hands from my body and helps, my feet taking over once they reach his knees.

Unencumbered by the constricting denim, my hands move easily back to their previous position, my fingers sliding along the edge of the elastic of his boxer briefs then underneath, across the skin between his hip bones, and then down further until I reach my target.

He grunts low, his mouth trailing across my neck and chest as I wrap my hand around the base of him, stroking up slowly and then back down. With a twist of my arm he's freed from his boxers and I can finally see him- the only part of him I've never seen before. When his lips leave my skin, I force my eyes from the lower half of his body up to his face, only to see him studying me.

Worrying... always worrying, even now.

Rather than tell him that everything is more than ok, I crane my neck up to kiss him, taking the lead as I quicken my strokes.

"Are you sure you - oh, shit. Fuck, that's good."

I very nearly laugh out loud at his quick change in attitude, but there are more pressing and infinitely more appealing matters at hand. His hand slides into my shorts and all of a sudden I can barely think because he's touching me everywhere lovely and I can hardly remember my own name or keep any kind of regular pace to my strokes.

Push and pull, give and take - our rhythm is uneven and unpracticed, but neither one complains and I know that I for one wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

As our movements speed and our brains cloud over with the need for more of anything - everything - our kisses wane, lips brushing halfheartedly between gasping breaths and moans, almost as though they are magnetized. Even if we are not focused, even if we are completely consumed by other, even more wonderful things, they seek each other still.

Just more proof how how real our bond is.

Strokes - both mine on him, and his against my wet skin - become messy, erratic and frantic as we both barrel towards what we both crave so desperately. My back arches, pushing my chest closer to his as though my entire being is yearning for him and my hand tightens around his length, pulling firmer and faster and doing anything to illicit the deep groan of my name that I love.

"Holy _fuck_, Bella. That's so... _fuck_."

That's the one.

I groan in response, so absorbed by my task and the sensations he's bringing out in me that I can't even attempt to get a word past my lips.

His mouth falls against my throat, hot breaths interspersed between wet kisses and quick nips at no regular pace or rhythm. My free arm is locked around his shoulder, my fingers in his hair as I pull him closer and closer but never close enough. I frantically wish for more limbs, or any way that I could draw him into me further because having him over me like this, being with him this way, is so addictive that I can scarcely imagine any other alternative.

With a twist of his fingers my entire body starts to shake, curving inwards and upwards and seeking him out in any and every capacity. Fingers tighten in his hair, breathing becomes impossible and unnecessary as something so much more important consumes me. My hand falls from his length as my task is momentarily abandoned, fireworks and white lights and everything wonderful flashing behind my eyes as heady, overwhelming, so-perfect-it-almost-feels-painful ecstacy rolls through me, running from a place deep in my soul right through to the very tips of my fingers.

Eternity seems to pass in a split second.

When I can finally get my eyes open, Edward is looking at me, a combination of awe and smugness... and desperation. With a lazy smile, I reach out for him again, and in a matter of several firm strokes he's following me off the abyss, my name on his lips and his teeth at my throat. The slight sting they illicit is an oddly pleasant counterpoint to my orgasm, hurting in all the right ways when they dig into my skin just a little.

He moves his face back to mine and kisses me gently and I realise that there is something warm, wet and kind of gross on my stomach. Giggling awkwardly, I reach blindly for the table, hoping for a box of tissues to materialise in my palm. Edward looks at me, confused.

"What are you - Oh."

He laughs himself and picks up his t-shirt, holding it up in a silent offer. I reach for it, but instead of giving it to me, he starts wiping my stomach, an action that is bizarrely sweet considering what it is he's wiping off of me.

"Thanks," I murmur, feeling a little self-conscious as he finishes cleaning me up.

"The pleasure was all mine, I assure you," he teases, kissing me again to try and diffuse my silly insecurity. Slightly peturbed by his unsavory joke, I shove at his chest, doing nothing to move him. Instead, he just laughs at me more, dotting quick kisses all over my face and neck as I continue to struggle against him.

Once we're both redressed - him sans shirt - he informs me that he is hungry, so we relocate to the kitchen for me doing perform what he describes as 'my womanly duty to feed him', earning him a sharp smack to his bare stomach and a short period of time doubled over as the sting dissolves.

I perform my 'womanly duty' with a smug smile on my face as he rubs his hand across his belly, wincing while he takes a seat at the kitchen island.

"I hope it was worth it," I annouce as I place a plate holding a sandwich in front of him. He holds up his finger and takes a huge bite, then nods.

"Worth it," he garbles out around the obscene mouthful of food. I roll my eyes and sit down next to him with my own food, jumping as he pulls my chair closer to his so that our legs are touching while we eat. I allow this, enjoying the contact more than I let on, but refuse him when he tries to kiss me in gratitude with his mouth still full.

He swallows, then pouts at me.

"So what, you have your way with me then you're done?"

I just nod, chewing casually. He holds his bare hand up to his chest, looking crestfallen.

"Oh... I see how it is."

He averts his eyes as he mimes wiping a tear from his face and I end up choking as I laugh and try to swallow at the same time.

"You'll break my heart, Bella Swan, and you won't even realise."

I giggle again, trying as hard as I possibly can not to let on that if anything, the reverse of what he said will be true. While my feelings for him are no longer based on that scary, overwhelming, consuming fear, they are now based on something even scarier.

Love.

**AN: Awwww, look at them go, passing bases and being in love. Adorable.**

**Also, I read an unbelievable fic last week that i want you guys to have a look at, and review because it has nowhere near enough. **

**House of Cards**** by ****therunaway1**** tells the story of Bella, who despite being in love with her best friend Edward, sets him up with her friend Kate. It is a heartfail and a half, having induced stomach aches, tears and angry shouting from me as Bella and Edward stumble around trying to do the right thing and hurting each other almost to the point of no return. **

**Check it out, it definitely carries my seal of approval... whatever that's worth.**

**Next up, you ask? EPOV.**


	31. 31

**EPOV**

I've never been a fan of handjobs. The whole idea of a girl fumbling to do what I've been easily doing myself for years never really appealed to me. Especially when there are so many other, great things they can do that I can't do myself.

But of course, Bella was the one to completely up-end that view. Why I'm even surprised by this anymore, I'll never know. The feel of her little hand haphazardly wrapped around me managed to completely convert me to the idea of the handjob, most likely because I can't imagine a single way she could ever touch me that I wouldn't enjoy.

Given, the slap to the stomach - that I probably deserved - wasn't great, but still, the girl brings something out in me that I've never felt before. One would think that the emotional roller coaster would have slowed down once I made it out of that fucking hellhole, but being with Bella has only increased it's pace. That said, the range of emotions has widened beyond fear, terror and hopelessness, but I'm still yet to wrap my head around all of the feelings coursing through me whenever her name pops up in my head.

I know that most people would tell me 'you're in love!' and be done with it, but it's so much more than that. There is the love - the desire to have her constantly around, the need to know that she's safe and happy and wanting to make sure that I'm the person who makes her safe and happy. But beyond that, there's so much more.

There's that irrational fear that something might happen to her - which I'm not entirely convinced is purely a product of our ordeal, the insecurity that she might not feel the way I do about her, the dull ache that results when I'm not around or when I know she's sad and there's nothing I seem to be able to do to help her. She suffers, more than she lets on, and knowing that is probably the worst part of the whole thing. That's why I stopped being such an asshole about the whole therapy thing, and it really seems to be helping her.

And as much as I hate to admit it, Marcus seems to be helping me too.

"Hello, Eddie," he coos as I sit down in his office, immediately picking up the weird-looking, rubbery stress toy that sits on the coffee table separating us. I have no fucking clue what it's called, but you can wrap it around your wrists and pull on it, something I find myself doing every time Marcus pisses me off, which is often. The thick rubber is almost impossible to pull further than a few inches, but it really does help offset the irritation the asshole seems to bring out in me at every possible opportunity.

"You know I hate that shit," I grumble at him. He looks down at my hands, already yanking at the ends of the rubber cord, and his smile gets even wider when he looks back at my face. Marcus is a young guy, probably no older than 30, and he uses that to his advantage, talking to me like we're equals instead of feeding me the whole 'how does that make you feel?' bullshit.

As much as I hate to admit it, he's actually kind of a cool guy.

Unless he's trying to be a dick, as he often does.

"I do know that."

"You are such an asshole."

"I know that, too."

I sigh, knowing that nothing I can say will affect him in any way, so I move on.

"So what hellish ordeals do you want to put me through today, Marcus?"

He laughs, a carefree sound that pisses me off to no end.

"Wow, you're certainly feeling chipper this morning," he notes, "is it that time of the month?"

Douche.

I fight my way through my session with Marcus - figuratively speaking of course - and almost run out the door the second he informs me that our time is up. He laughs as I bolt from the room.

"See you next week, Eddie - I'll miss you too!"

I end up laughing as I leave... the guy gets me, as much as I hate to admit it, and I really think that if I'd been paired with anyone other than him, I'd have given this therapy thing the boot a long fuckin time ago.

Case and point being Dr Douchebag.

Bella swears that I just got off on the wrong foot with her beloved 'Garrett', but I'm confident that the two of us would never have gotten our shit together. Marcus is an asshole, but somehow he can tell when he's about to push me too far, and when I need to be pushed a little further. As much as I resent admitting it, he really has helped.

The opportunity to beat the shit out of something every other day has also contributed to the cause.

I've never been physically stronger than I've become since getting into the whole training thing, having been a lazy little shit for most of my life, but I'm a much bigger fan of the whole thing that I would ever have thought. Even though I'd never lay a hand on a person who didn't really fucking deserve it, knowing that I'm strong enough, and skilled enough to protect both myself and Bella if need be somehow makes me feel a whole lot less freaked out about being back in the world.

Also, my body isn't looking so bad either. Bella seems to be a fan, judging by the way she completely unsubtly gropes my back and shoulders muscles everytime she hugs me.

I climb into my car, wind down the windows and turn my music up obnoxiously loud. Foals are not the kind of music one typically blasts as they cruise, but fuck that. I've developed a love of driving around, wind in my hair and music blaring since I've been... free. I stumble over that word, even in my own head, because quite frankly it sounds fucking ridiculous.

I still, at times, struggle to believe that what happened to Bella and I actually happened. I mean, of course it fucking happened, I live with the aftermath of it every god damn day, much to my irritation, but it's not the kind of thing you imagine will happen to you when you're a seventeen year old kid. It belongs in the realm of nightmares and badly scripted hollywood films, not in the realm of my recent memory. I just wish I could forget the whole fucking ordeal... I'd rather a 6 week long black hole in my memory than the ones that experience gave me.

Excepting Bella, of course.

Her name passing through my head makes me smile like the pussy-whipped loser that I seem to have become.

I was never that guy - the one who did sweet shit and doted on a girl, mainly because I never really felt the need to. Sure, girls were fun, but sat on the periphery of my life, coming and going with no real consequence. More than the fooling around part - which I am a huge fan of, make no mistake - Bella is the first girl I've felt like I needed, and who makes a legitimate impact on the quality of my life.

Sure, it was contrived in a horrific, unreal situation, but it's more real than anything I've ever known.

I drive around for a while longer, no direction in particular forming in my mind. I love the freedom of the road, driving around with no pressure, surrounded by fresh air and the feel of the sun through my windshield. Eventually I gravitate in the general direction of Bella's place, as I always seem to end up subconsciously doing. I know she's at home, probably lying on that stupid blow-up toy with a book in her hand as she drifts around her pool.

Her free hand is probably dangling in the water, occasionally lifting out to flick cooling drops on her sun-heated skin...

All of a sudden I'm no longer drifting in her general direction, but heading directly to her place along the quickest route I can think of. I'm really fucking glad it was too hot to put on jeans this morning and I'd opted for boardshorts and a singlet instead. I'm sure she'll be willing to lend me a towel.

Or better yet, let me share with her.

Before the subsequent fantasy of Bella soaking wet and pressed against me consumes me entirely, I drive down her driveway and force myself to get my mind out of the gutter lest I risk running into Charlie with a semi.

I let myself in using the key I've been given for emergencies and jog through the house and out the back, where I can hear Bella's music playing. I look through the glass of the back door, taking a moment to absorb the picture before me. I was almost right - she's on the stupid pool longue, one arm partially submerged under the water. Her sunglasses on, no book in her hands, she could very well be sleeping.

In a little blue bikini.

Sleeping Beauty eat your heart out.

The only thing that disrupts the peaceful image, and I almost laugh aloud when I hear it, is the Wu Tang Clan she's blasting while she drifts around easily. The album that I gave her.

_Fuck, I love her._

Chubs is lying on one of the deck chairs, resting on Bella's towel as he soaks up the sun along with Bella. When I slide open the door, he immediately looks up, then gives an excited yelp as he scrambles off his perch to come say hello. I'm momentarily distracted from my perving by the fluffball bouncing around at my feet.

"Hey buddy! How's it going?" I pat him as I speak, enjoying the feel of his sun-warmed fur. "You having a nap in the sun, are you? That's a good idea, clever boy!"

His tail goes crazy as I praise him in this stupid voice that I only ever use when I'm talking to him. I pat him for a little while longer then look back up to Bella, who is smiling indulgently at our reunion from her place on her floating bed. I smirk and wave at her, and she waves back, offering nothing else by way of greeting, which is completely not acceptable.

I quickly yank of my shirt, dumping it and the contents of my pockets beside her towel on the chaise then dive into the water, coming up almost directly beside her. She recoils from me when I shake my wet hair at her, laughing to myself at the odd whining sound she makes.

"Hello," I say casually and she just glares at me. Accepting the challenge inherent in her rudeness, I slowly push down on the edge of her floating bed, drawing her involuntarily closer to me, and the water.

"Fine, fine!" she cries, her voice tinted with a squeal and full of playful irritation. She leans in and kisses me, not expecting for me to wrap the arm that had been pulling her down around her neck to hold her mouth to mine. I don't deepen the kiss, I just keep her there, our lips joined for a long moment.

I've missed her.

She indulges my clingy ways, placing a small hand on my shoulder to steady herself so she doesn't roll off her perch. I ignore her desire to stay out of the water and pull her down and in, wrapping my arms firmly around her waist to keep her close... and restrain her from beating me up.

"Ah!" She screams as the cold water envelops her. "You. Are. Such. An. Asshole!"

She punctuates all of her words with smacks to my chest, which I laugh at to disguise my slight wince. She needs this - my being a douchebag, teasing her and making her scowl and laugh and forget about things. I'm more than happy to take the intermittent abuse from her if I can keep a smile on her face.

When Bella's thinking about what happened to us, three things happen. I don't even think she realises that she's doing it, but I do, and it kills me. I'll do whatever I have to to keep them from occuring.

One, she gets this sad, vacant expression on her face. Her eyes go glassy, seeing nothing except for the memories that we've both replayed in our heads far too many fucking times for my liking. She thinks she can cover it up, and she'll still participate in a conversation and try to act like everythings normal, but I know better.

Two, her leg starts to shake. It's a small thing, a bouncing of her toes that runs up her calf so that her knee bounces just a little. I first noticed it when we were in the room together, and it only comes up when she's thinking about it. It's like her body, even in that small way, is eager to get the fuck out of there and can't stop itself from moving.

And when it gets really bad, we reach stage three. The stage where she pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around herself, making this tiny ball of person. This only happens when she knows that she can't internalize her dark thoughts, and usually arrives when someone asks her a question about the situation. I hate this stage, even more than the others, because she used to do the same thing every time she heard a noise through a knobless door when we were in that fucking room. Seeing her like that not only makes me worry about her, but brings up a shitload of bad thoughts of my own.

If me making an ass of myself can stop any of these things from happen - can keep that gorgeous smile on her even more gorgeous face - then I'll make an ass of myself every damn day for the rest of our lives.

She needs me, and I love her, so I'll do it in a fucking heartbeat.

Things are slowly getting better for us both, and even better, between us, and I'll do absolutely anything I can to protect that.

"Ow! What the fuck was that, Bella?"

She smiles smugly as she retracts her fingers from my now twisted nipple.

"Revenge," she smiles innocently, but somehow not inncocently at all.

"I'll show you revenge," I say with a dark smile of my own, then, before she can struggle out of my grip, I remove my feet from the bottom of the pool, forcing us both under the water. When I come back up to the surface, she's spluttering and coughing and has a purely hateful look on her face, and I can't stop laughing.

Eventually, the scowl slides from her face, replaced with a small, grudging smile that she can't completely fight down.

Perfect.


	32. 32

**BPOV**

"How are things with you, Bella?"

I smile broadly.

"Pretty awesome, to be honest."

Things had been steadily improving in the three months since I'd left the Cullen house. Both Edward's and my therapy were going very well, helping us to both deal with our respective issues. He was dealing with his anger, I was dealing with my panic, and we were both learning to trust the people around us and trying to forge a normal relationship together.

And, to my surprise and amazement, it was working. The summer had been a blur of wonderful memories, each one working to override all of the horrible ones.

"Really? Any specific reason for this?" Garrett asks, smiling a little himself.

"He loves me."

I state it proudly, my smile growing even larger. Edward had told me only two days before, when we were wrestling on his bedroom floor. My birthday is fast approaching and Emmett let slip that Edward had already bought my gift, so Alice and I of course went on a reconnaisance mission when we'd thought he was out with Jasper for the afternoon.

_We'd become sidetracked when we'd discovered a small collection of nudie magazines and spread them out across his bed as we read together, squealing and laughing at both the articles and the photoshoots. Distracted as we were, we'd failed to notice that Edward and Jasper had returned home and were standing in the door way, watching on as we laughed together on his bed in a nest made of porno mags._

_"Bella... what are you doing?" he asked lowly._

_Both Alice and I screamed at the sound of his voice, surprised and embarrassed._

_"Oh..." I looked around us and realised that we were completely and utterly busted. "Uh, nothing. Why?"_

_"Because it looks like you're looking at porn with another girl while lying on my bed."_

_I looked up at him then, standing beside his brother with both of their expressions slightly dazed. I scoffed as I realised what they were likely to be thinking about._

_"Get your mind out of the gutter, you pervs," I scolded. "We were looking for my birthday present and got distracted."_

_His dreamy expression was immediately replaced by a solemn one._

_"You were doing what?"_

_"Emmett may have let it slip that you've already got it," I admitted quickly, trying to shift some of the blame off myself._

_"Oh, you're gonna get it now," he growled._

_He stalked towards the bed and Alice jumped off, laughing as she ran out of the room, leaving me alone and undefended when Jasper immediately followed her. I stood up on the mattress, trying to balance myself and then launched at him, throwing my body into his arms in an attempt to get in the first blows before he inevitably pinned me down._

_The force of my body hitting his threw him back slightly and we fell onto the bed. We wrestled as he tried to pin me and I struggled away from him, until we ended up on the floor, me on top of him, surrounded by the torn pages of the porn we'd destroyed during the melee._

_"Look what you did!" he accused, waving a tattered remnant of a magazine at me. "I've had this since I was fourteen, Bella! They were one of the nicest things Jasper ever did for me!"_

_I smacked the crumpled paper out of his hands, laughing all the while as he pouted and laugh turned to a squeal as he flipped us over, pressing me into the floor with his body. I tried to squirm away, but was rendered almost completely immobile by the weight of him and quickly gave up, my own giggles dying down. He watched me intently the entire time, his eyes focused on my face._

_"What?" I asked through the last of my giggles._

_"I love you. You know that right?"_

_I nodded._

_"Good."_

_He kissed me then, in the middle of a pile of dirty pictures, until I could hardly breathe._

_"You know I love you back, right?" I asked, panting slightly and so happy I could barely contain myself._

_"Really?" _

_I rolled my eyes in playful annoyance._

_"Yeah, dummy."_

_He growled and forcefully pressed hs lips to mine again._

_"Good," he murmured against my mouth. His fingers descended on my ribs then, until I was a writhing, squealing mess underneath him._

I pull myself out o the memory when I realise that Garrett is speaking to me.

"Do you return his sentiment?" he asks, although I'm sure he already knows the answer to that question, but I nod regardless.

"I'm happy to hear that."

I smile so big my cheeks hurt a little, because I'm happy about it too.

His own smile fades slightly and mine quickly follows, because I know what he's about to mention and I'm anything but eager to jump into this conversation.

"Your's and Edward's video testimonies are being shot this week."

His words hang in the air, and I really don't want to validate them with any kind of response. The date has been looming for weeks, and although we'd received the list of questions in advance, it made me no more relaxed about it, and no more willing to discuss it with strangers, particularly on camera.

"Bella," Garrett sighs, "you can't just ignore your way out of this situation."

"I know that," I snip but he ignores my clipped tone, as per usual.

"I've spoken to your parents as well as Marcus about this, and we all decided that both Marcus and myself will be present, with Carlisle, just as a measure to make sure that you aren't pushed too far and to keep your best interests as the major concern. There will also be the lead detective present, the judge, and the defense attorney."

I tense up immediately at the idea of having to speak with the person who has chosen to defend the man who did this to us. Without evening knowing their name, I hate them.

"Bella, are you alright? You haven't said anything."

My head snaps up as my abstraction dissolves, and I realise that I've probably been sitting here contemplating my hatred for much longer than I think I have.

"I don't like that I have to meet his defense attorney," I admit, a little sheepishly. From what I know of the legal system, the chances of him not having representation are almost nil, but I can't help it.

"Why is that?"

"Because he doesn't deserve anyone fighting for his freedom after what he did. He took mine, and Edward's, because of his own bad choices, and now he has someone trying to keep him out of prison, so he can be free and happy and do whatever he likes? It's not fair!"

My voice raises in pitch and volume throughout my speech as a wave of anger rises from the pit of my stomach. I pull my legs up to my chest, trying to physically force it back down to no effect. I rest my head on my knees until my anger dissolves into sadness.

"Why should he be allowed to defend himself when we never even got the chance?"

My words break over a small sob when the weight of my own words settles onto my shoulders, making me hunch even further into myself.

A few minutes pass while I silently cry, my only movements the stilted rise and fall of my shoulders while the sobs come and my upset takes a physical form.

"Bella, can you look up at me?" Garrett asks in his most soothing, inoffensive tone and I reluctantly grant his request, quickly wiping away the wetness on my face.

"You have every right to feel the way you do. In fact, given your position, you are handling the situation with immense grace. Unfortunately, the law stipulates that Aro is entitled to legal representation if he so chooses, and there's nothing we can do about that.

"What you can do, however, is give the best testimony possible, tell them everything you went through, so that the jury can see that he doesn't deserve his freedom, and it will be taken from him."

The idea of something being taken from the man who took so much from me and the boy I love feels like one small ray of light in the darkness. I pull my head up from my knees and straighten my spine, physically and mentally gearing myself up for this. I keep my legs curled up in front of my body though, craving the inexplicable sense of safety the position gives me.

"Alright," I say, clearing my throat of the remaining scratch from my crying, "let's go through the list one more time."

* * *

"We can do this. We can. Right? Are you feeling ok?"

Edward is holding my hand as we walk down the hall, flexing his much larger one around mine intermittently as he tries to put on a brave face for me. He's spent the entire morning on poor attempts to protect me from his own fear, a gesture I find unbearably sweet, if not short-sighted.

We know each other well enough that such fallacies are completely pointless.

"Yeah... we can do this," I assure him, squeezing his hand in return and seemingly breaking him from his internal debate. He looks down at meets my eyes, smiling weakly. I move in front of him to stop us both walking, and slide my free hand up to his face. It moves over his cheek bone, down his jaw, and settles where his neck and shoulder meet. He sighs at the contact and I smile softly.

"Edward, you need to relax."

"I am relaxed," he lies reflexively and I roll my eyes.

"It's ok. We've prepared as best we can, now all we have to do is go in there and talk about it. Garrett, Marcus and your dad will step in if anyone crosses the line."

He sighs again, but this sound is distinctly different to his previous one.

"You're right... but I really, really don't want to do this shit."

"Me neither," I assure him, tightening my grip on his neck slightly as I roll up onto my toes. Catching my meaning, he leans down and kisses me softly, his free hand resting easily on my waist, long fingers wrapping around my side and giving me more comfort than I think he'll ever know. He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine, eyes still closed.

"We're in this together, ok?"

He nods, and I feel his soft hair moving against my hairline.

"Look at me," I instruct softly and he opens his lovely green eyes, which are filled with doubt and fear.

"I love you, and it's going to be just -"

"Fine," he cuts me off, pre-empting my use of our old joke. I laugh, just a little, and his face softens in response. He kisses me once more, pushes his forehead into mine, and then pulls away from me.

Carlisle, who had been walking far enough ahead to remain safely out of earshot, pauses outside a door, where Garrett, Marcus and two other men in suits are waiting. I haven't seen these men before, but they seem professional and polite when they shake Carlisle's hand, so I send a silent prayer out that they aren't too horrible.

When Edward and I reach them, their small circle expands to let us in. I smile weakly at Garrett and the introductions begin.

"Bella, this is Edward's therapist, Marcus," Carlisle speaks up and Marcus smiles warmly as he offers a wave, "and these are Detective Sargeant Wood and Judge Richards. They're here to make sure that everything is done appropriately for your testimonies to count."

"I'm Liam," one of them, the leiutenant, speaks up, "and this Alistair. There's no need for formalities here. Bella, I work in your father's department, I've seen the baby photos he keeps on his desk." He smiles at me and I smile weakly back, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.

"We're almost ready to begin, we just need to wait for -"

"No need to wait," a voice calls and I look over my shoulder, beyond surprised at the person before me. "I'm here now."


	33. 33

**AN: hello lovelies! Here's the next chapter for you.**

**also, someone had a question about why the judge would be present in the interview... remember that Bella is still 17, which makes her a minor in the eyes of the law. Judges sometimes sit in on interviews where children are involved, particularly when it surrounds something as traumatic and sensative as this situation, to make sure that the minors are not pushed too far or mistreated. He would have been presented the evidence anyway, so it's not a breach in the legal process.**

**At least, that's what my judge father explained to me when i posed him a very awkward, barely sensical hypothetical about it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Aro's lawyer is a small - tiny, actually - blonde haired woman named Jane. That said, when Detective Woods calls her by her name, she insists on being referred to as "Ms Ellis." While she is actually quite a pretty lady, her face seems hardened with a malice that makes her almost unbearable to be around.

To be completely honest, nothing about her demeanor surprises me at all. Only someone like her would attempt to defend the actions of the man who took us.

We enter the room and Edward and I are directed to take two seats on one side of the table. The judge, the detective and Jane sit on the other side, Carlisle and our therapists on an ugly brown leather couch lining the side of the room. Edward snatches my hand up in his own the moment we're seated, squeezing it for a moment. Whether he's trying to reassure me, or himself, I'm not sure.

"Ok," Judge Richards begins after a long silence, "Detective Woods, you may begin first."

The detective guides us through our descriptions of being taken, and our experiences whilst in the room, and also how we've been coping with everything that happened since. He prompts for more information at a couple of points, but for the most part, just urges us to make our way through our stories at our own pace.

Edward and I speak in turns, each going through our own experiences but maintaining a mostly chronological order of events. It makes me feel uncomfortable to talk about it all in one long sitting, but I have been preparing for this for a while.

What hurts so much more is hearing Edward talking about his experiences.

While none of this information is new to me - I was there for a fair portion of it - it still cuts like a knife to hear him, particularly when he struggles over some parts of the story. I squeeze his hand, urging him on and reassuring myself at the same time.

He's safe now.

It's over.

Edward gets increasingly short in his statements, retreating into himself and getting more and more irritable as he continues, especially when talking about what we'd been through since we'd been freed. The change in his energy affects all of his, his short, almost panting breaths filling the room as his anger seems to take a visceral toll on everybody present.

By the time Detective Woods concludes his questions, Judge Richards calls for a break that we all need. Edward stands and would have pulled me from the room, if I hadn't been just as eager to get out of there as he is.

He all but runs down the hall and shoves the swinging door open with unnecessary force, pulling me down the stairs until we're standing outside, bathed in light and completely oblivious to our surroundings in the garden outside the court. He takes one, two, three deep, almost gasping breaths then wraps himself around me using almost painful force.

"That fucking sucked," he breathes into the skin of my neck.

"I know it did."

My hands move into his hair, combing through it as I try to calm him.

"It really fucking sucked."

"I know," I mumur again, noticing to my slight alarm that his body seems to be trembling. His hands move shakily up and down my back, the pressure increasing in strength as he holds me closer and closer until I can hardly breathe.

I'm about to collapse under the weight of his pain, until I hear it.

A choked sob.

Almost nothing, just a catch in his breath that I wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so close, but instantly I pull myself together because he needs me right now and I can't let him down because of my own weakness.

"Shhh, it's over now. It's all over now. I promise, it's all ok. Shh, everything's fine."

I keep talking, my breathing shallow as he uses his stronghold around my torso to lift me off the ground completely. I wrap my legs around his body, completely ignoring the fact that we're in a public place and I'm sure alarming passers by, but he turns us, placing me down on the bricked fence of the garden so that I don't have to hold myself up.

He doesn't let go of me though, just keeps his head buried in my shoulder as my hands comb through his hair and I try to use everything in me to calm him down.

"It's ok, everything's fine," I continue to babble, hoping that the sound of my voice and help to ground him like his has for me so many times in the past. Eventually, his stuttering, uneven breaths begin to regulate, and I feel him inhale deeply against my chest, and then sigh, making my skin break out in goosebumps where the warm air passes over bare skin.

He pulls back and looks at me. He's slightly flushed, a little embarrassed, and more lovely than he's ever been. I slide my hands from his hair to cup his cheeks, then pull his face down to mine for a kiss.

"I just want this to be fucking over already," he mumbles against my mouth, refusing to pull away even to speak.

"We're nearly there," I assure him, "just a few more questions and we'll be out of here."

"Thank fucking god for that."

"We can go home, sit in your room and watch movies for the rest of the day... only us."

I say this to make him feel better, but it's also just as much for my own flimsy sense of peace.

"You promise?"

His voice is near silent and he tilts his head up and down as he speaks so his lips are brushing over mine in soft passes.

"I promise. And you never know, I might let you feel me up a little bit during the movie."

His surprised laugh against my mouth makes my own tilt up in a smirk that he kisses off my face before he sighs again and lets me go.

"Alright then, let's get this bullshit overwith so we can get to the feeling."

I laugh but jump off the retaining wall, grab his hand, and we both make our way back inside.

"Ok, Ms Ellis," Judge Richards states when we file back into the room, "feel free to begin your questions."

She nods, just once, to the judge and then her eyes skim across the page as she reads through her notes. She clears her voice, and begins.

"You're a small part in a much more _significant_," she sneers the word in a belittling way, "case that the District Attorney's office is trying to build against my client. Did you know that?"

"No."

I would have thought that kidnapping two people wouldbe _significant_ enough on it's own.

Edward shakes his head beside me.

"You're also the children of the District Attorney, and the main witness."

We both nod, confused as to why she's stating these obvious facts.

"So... really, it would stand to reason that you would want your fathers to be successful in their attempts at having my client indicted?"

I say nothing, confused and suddenly very nervous.

"And the men who you claim took you," she continues smoothly, "have no ties to my client other than a few phone conversations and their claims about him hiring them to abduct you."

She pauses for a moment, but Leiutenant Woods cuts her off before she can continue.

"What exactly are you implying here?"

"I'm suggesting that perhaps this whole thing was a fabrication on the part of the district attorney's office to create a legitimate case because they were unable to gather sufficient evidence to prosecute my client."

I gasp and I can almost feel the rage emanating from Edward.

"Are you fucking serious?" he roars.

Judge Richards chooses this point to intervene.

"Turn the camera off. Edward, please calm down," he pleads, to no avail.

"You're saying that we put _ourselves_ through that shit so that an innocent man could go to prison?"

Miss Ellis shrugs slightly, completely blase despite her unbelievable accusations.

"All we have to go on are your testimonies, and some minor injuries sustained."

"That's enough, Miss Ellis," Judge Richards comes to our assistance before Edward can lose it completely.

"You're fucking right, that's enough."

"Edward," I murmur, my voice full of chastisement. I reach out and place my hand on his leg, but his snatches it up in both of his, clutching it tightly. I swear I can feel it pulsating with the white hot anger that I'm sure he's desperately fighting down.

The judge looks at Edward for a moment, then back to Ms Ellis.

"If you have questions, ask them, but I won't tolerate you trying to upset or discredit the witnesses by making these conjectures in front of them."

I'm profoundly grateful for his defence of us. Everyone is given a minute to get themselves together and the camera goes back to record the remainder of our testimonies.

From there, Miss Ellis goes into a string of more acceptable though very specific questions, some of which we're unable to answer, about the men and their actions, the timing of events, and many other minute details. I'm suspicious, wondering why all of this information is so relevant, but I answer as best I can in the hopes that I can completely destroy any argument that we did this to ourselves.

I think Edward is doing the same thing, and we both become frustrated when we're unable to answer a couple of them, wondering if it will somehow strengthen her disgusting argument.

When it's over, both of us are still clearly shaken up by what has passed.

"I'm so sorry," Detective Woods says as we walk down the hallways and towards the exit, "I had no idea she was going to do anything like that."

"It's ok," I say reflexively, and Edward says nothing, gripping my hand a little tighter in his. I dart my eyes over to look at him, but his eyes are focused straight ahead, his mouth set in a straight line.

"You both handled things absolutely perfectly," Garrett assures us, and I look over my shoulder to see Marcus and Carlisle nodding in agreement with his statement.

"Fuck that," Edward snaps, wheeling around and almost making me lose my footing as I move with him. We stand facing the men, and despite my better judgement assuring me that they wouldn't hurt me, I'm immediately nervous.

"Nothing about that was fucking perfect," he fumes. "Did any of you know she was going to do that?"

"Of course we didn't," Carlisle says in an placating tone, and the other men are shaking their heads.

"Well, you fucking should have! How could you have let us get fucking blindsided like that? I thought you were supposed to be on our side, and then... and then _that_ fucking happens!"

He throws out his free arm back in the direction of the interview room and I flinch slightly at the aggression of his gesture.

"I have fucking idea if we gave her exactly what she fucking needs to convince a jury that we did this to ourselves, all because no one fucking told me that she was going to pull that bullshit! What if that Aro bastard gets away with this, all because you _assholes_ couldn't get your shit together?"

Carlisle takes a step back in reaction to his son's harsh words. Marcus takes a step forward and holds up a hand - it's not aggressive, but it's enough to catch Edward's attention despite his fury.

"That is enough, Edward," he says in a low, even voice. "Enough."

"Fuck you," Edward spits and then he's off, pulling me behind him at a jog because I refuse to let go. He allows me to follow until we're outside in the parking lot, when he tries to detach his hand from mine.

"Let me go, Bella. My dad will drive you home."

"No."

"Bella, let me _go_!"

He makes another attempt to shake me off, but I refuse to let him, despite him being almost obscenely stronger than I am.

"I'm coming with you."

"Fine. What the fuck ever."

He unlocks his car, walks around to his side and throws the door open, slamming it as hard as he can when he closes it. For a moment, I think he's going to drive away, but then he shoves open the passenger side door with as much force as he had with the driver's side.

It's a small gesture - tiny really, in the face of his behaviour - but it's enough for now.

He's not pushing me away completely, and that's enough.


	34. 34

Despite our agreement to go to his place after court, Edward drives us back to mine. I understand why. My house doesn't have the constant stream of people moving about, watching and worrying and trying to make us feel better.

It relieves the pressure on us to pretend that their efforts are working.

As much as I've come to love Edward's family and appreciate how much they truly care for not only his, but my wellbeing, I understand why it is that he's not eager to head straight back to Esme's sad-but-pretending-to-be-nonchalant expression, Jasper's conspicuous silences and Emmett's frenzied, somewhat desperate attempts to relieve any tension. And if the current atmosphere in the car is anything to go by, there would have been alot of tension.

He says absolutely nothing throughout the trip, and for the first time ever, rebuffs my attempts to hold his hand while he drives, keeping it on the gearstick even though his car is an automatic. I keep my hands folded in my lap, trying to fight back the irrational tears at his small rejection. Logically, I know he needs time to process and deal in whatever way is best for him, but I need him to take my hand, not only to make me feel a little better about the whole catastrophe, but also so that I can feel like I'm doing something, _anything_, to help.

When we pull up at the house he turns off the ignition and places both of his hands on the wheel. His fingers are white with the pressure he's applying to it, almost as if he's trying to snap it into pieces. Just before I make another attempt to distract him, he sighs deeply and removes his hands, then throws open his door and climbs out, walking towards the front door. I sigh myself and then climb out, slowly walking over to where he's waiting.

I unlock the door and he follows me in, pulling the door shut behind us but not following me any further into my house. He turns, and pushes his head into the door, both hands pressed up against the wood. He's shutting me out, keeping his face, and his thoughts, hidden from me, and I can't bear it for another second so I walk over and wrap my arms around his waist, knotting my fingers together against his chest because I need to do _something_.

He flinches a little bit at the contact, but eventually moves one of his hands and places it over my own, which makes me feel like I might be getting through to him. He lets go a moment later and I'm temporarily disheartened, before he turns around within the confines of my arms so that finally, _finally_, I can see him.

He looks broken.

Broken, and frightened, and so angry that it almost forms a tangible shell around him that I can't for the life of me figure out how to break through.

"Bella," he sighs, and I step forward, pressing my body to his and wrapping myself around him as best I can. He doesn't move at first, standing stock still and completely ignoring my attempts to get close to him.

I move my head gently, slowing shaking it back and forth so that my hair brushes against his neck a little bit. He sighs again, but his hands move from his sides and around my body, which makes me feel a tiny, tiny bit better. I bury into him further, pushing myself against him when I get that minute amount of positive reinforcement. I feel him shift and then his lips are on the crown of my head, then my forehead, so I tilt my face up to meet his eyes again and then his mouth is on mine.

At first he's gentle, hesitant even, like he's not even sure that I'm real, but soon his kisses become passionate, aggressive to the point of forceful.

"Edward," I murmur against his attack, trying in vain to get his attention. His hands slide from my waist down to the backs of my thighs and then I'm lifted off the floor and have to wrap my legs around his waist to support myself. He shifts me up, grunting a little into my mouth as his tongue pushes forward and twines with my own. I love being with him like this, I always do, but there's something about him that feels absent...

Detached.

Like he's not even in there at the moment.

I move my hands up into his hair to try and pull his face back so I can look in his eyes and be sure that my Edward is still present, but he refuses to budge, groaning as I pull on his hair. I'm distracted by the sound, by the way he's holding me and kissing me, and my worries begin to slip away from me as a whole new need begins to make itself known.

The next thing I know we're moving, lips still joined as he manouvres us across my entryway and slowly up the stairs, my back bumping into the bannister and the wall a few times during his slightly clumsy procession.

Once he reaches the top of the stairs, I'm pressed into the wall by his large body, my legs tightening further around his waist as the need to have him closer overwhelms my mind. His hands leave my butt and stroke up and down my thighs, pushing up the floral, cotton skirt I'd worn to the interview. They move upwards under the skirt, stroking my skin and making me slightly dizzy and complete unable to recall my earlier worries as he clouds over my mind and consumes me entirely.

I moan a little at the feeling of his hands on me, and he returns that sound when I wrap my fingers tighter in his hair and shift my hips against his, urging him on. He thrusts against me once, twice, the denim scratching my skin in the most lovely way and then we're moving again. My door is kicked open and then I'm tossed onto my bed and forced to break contact from him.

Before I can even make a sound of protest he's back on me, covering me completely and I wrap myself around him once more, hands back in his hair and my legs twined with his. He reaches back and pulls my hands from his hair, locking our fingers together and pushing them into the bed on either side of my head, resting on his elbows and pressing us together even more.

When his hips begin to move against mine, I whimper and he groans deeply, and animalistic sound that I'm not sure I've heard from him before. He pushes against me again, harder this time, and one of his hands releases mine, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt before, with a jarring sound, he tears the entire thing open down to my belly button.

In that moment, everything comes crashing back to me. I pull my face from his and he moves to my throat, kissing and nipping and he's harsher than he ever has been, hips grinding against mine in an almost painful way. The hand that ripped my shirt open slides down to my leg and pulls it up over his hip, giving him better access.

Wrong.

"Edward," I breathe, but he just moans against my neck and bites down on my collar bone in a way that doesn't seem loving, it seems almost malicious.

"Edward, please," I repeat louder this time, trying to get him to release the hand he has trapped above my head, but he won't. My skirt is around my waist now, his fingers digging into the skin of my thigh roughly and this isn't right at all. I use my one free hand to push at his chest, but he misunderstands, releasing my thigh and snatching it up once more to place it with my other hand, incapacitating me.

At this moment, the panic sets in.

"Edward, please!"

"I know baby, I know," he groans as his lips move lower and he doesn't understand but I can't seem to make the words come out of my mouth. My body's starting to tremble with distress and he's reading it all wrong because he's not in there - it's not him and I'm terrified. He releases one hand to fumble clumsily with his belt and I snatch up my opportunity.

"Edward, get off me!"

It comes out as a scream, and he jumps back as though he's been tased, completely off of my body and scrambling back to the end of the bed.

"What the fuck, Bella?"

He looks confused.

He doesn't get it.

_He's not in there._

"Get out," I murmur, my voice low and even.

"What?"

"GET OUT!"

And I'm screaming again.

He climbs off the bed, looking hurt and confused but I can't even bear to look in his eyes because for the first time ever, I don't know what I'll see there. I push myself up the mattress, yanking my skirt down as I press my back into the headboard and pull my legs up to cover my exposed chest.

"Bella, what's going on?"

He walks slowly around the side of the bed, and I move myself further away with every step he takes closer.

"Bella, please, you're scaring me."

I almost laugh at the unintentional irony.

"You need to leave."

"Talk to me."

"Just go. I can't... you wouldn't stop and I just... I can't right now."

His face falls, and I look away because I can't see it right now. I'm so angry and frightened and I just need him to leave so that I can break down and try to process a part of him that I've never seen before.

"Bella... I'm sorry. About your shirt, and all of it. You know I'd never hurt you, I just... I didn't -"

"Leave, please."

I don't look back but I hear his quiet footfalls and then the sound of my front door opening and closing. It's at the moment, when I know I'm alone, that I slide down, push my head into my pillow, the tears come.

A short while later, I hear the door opening again, and I sit bolt upright.

"Bella?"

I relax slightly when it's not Edward's voice, but Charlie's. I hate myself for doing it, and the sobs pick up again, my chest heaving up and down unevenly as I sputter for air. I hear my father plodding up the stairs and try to calm myself, with little success.

"Bella? Bella, are you - Oh, my girl."

He pauses in the door when he sees me, and rubs his hand over his face as he takes in the sight before him. His voice is much quieter, almost fearful, when he speaks again.

"I heard about what happened, are you ok?"

Slowly, I shake my head. Clearly, I am not ok.

He moves across the room and sits down on the edge of my bed, not sure what to do so I take the initiative. Hesitantly, I move myself until my head is resting in his lap, and the feeling of his fingers stroking gently across the top of my hair is the last thing I feel before the exhaustion of my crying jag sucks me under completely.


	35. 35

He doesn't know what to say, that much is clear.

Honestly, neither do I.

I turned up to his house this afternoon, our last weekend of freedom before we're forced to go back to school, because I can't bear the idea of us not being over this when we have to go back. Luckily, we'd gotten through all over catch-up exams and in two far-too-short days we'd be starting our senior year together, at his school.

Alice, needless to say, is less than thrilled at my defection, but she understands that it's the best thing for me - for both of us - to remain together in a situation like school where there's tons of people around and things have a tendency to get a little bit overwhelming. We need to have that trust in each other to get us through it.

Although right now, that trust is feeling a little flimsy.

"Edward, we -"

"Bella, I -"

Uncomfortable laughter ensues when we try to break the silence at the same time and end up talking over each other. I'm sitting on his bed, and he's sitting on the couch that lines the wall of his room, a decision he made after I was seated because he thinks that I'm still frightened of him.

What he doesn't understand is that I could never be frightened of him.

What frightened me was the black hole that consumed him that day, when he lost himself almost completely and I lost the boy I loved. Even though it was only a few short minutes, and he'd been apologising profusely ever since, it was still awful for me to think back over that afternoon.

It was only three days ago, but all I want is for it to be completely wiped from memory.

He gestures for me to begin, and suddenly I've forgotten what I was going to say.

"Edward... I'm not... What happened the other day -"

He cuts me off with a heavy, impatient sigh.

"It was like I wasn't even fucking there, you know?"

I have to stop my mouth from dropping open in shock at his words.

"I know that sounds fucking stupid, because obviously I was there... but it was - I don't know what it was. You probably just think I was being an asshole and thinking with my dick, and I wouldn't blame you, but for me, it wasn't like that. I just... I needed to be closer, and I couldn't... I just couldn't think anything other than that.

"I know I'm an asshole, and what I'm saying is absolutely in no way a valid justification for what I did, and you should slap me and tell me to go fuck myself, but..."

He rubs his hands over his face roughly and lets out a loud groan.

"I can't even fucking explain it properly! I'm such a douchebag."

"I understand," I say, so quietly I'm not even entirely sure I've said it until his mouth drops open with surprise.

"You do? Because I feel like I'm talking completely out of my fucking ass here, and -"

"Edward."

I hold a hand up to silence him, and he nods in acquiescence.

"I saw what you're talking about. It was like the Edward that I love, he left the building, and somehow your body was just... just moving on it's own. It was horrible, but I know that you'd never treat me like that, and you stopped when I asked you to."

He quickly crosses the room and sits down beside me, but I continue before he can say anything else.

"I understand it, but that doesn't make it ok."

"I know it doesn't," he murmurs.

"And it can't happen again. You scared me, and you've never done that before."

"I'm so fucking sorry, Bella."

"I know you are, and I forgive you... but never again. You need to tell Marcus what happened, and make sure you never do that to me, because I don't know if I could see whatever that was again and still be able to look at you."

I can see out of my peripheral vision when he nods in acceptance. I sigh deeply and close my eyes, covering my face with my hands as I try to completely push it all out. I feel his fingertips lightly brush one of the hands that is locked over my eyes, and before he can pull away I snatch it in my own, placing them both in my lap.

I clutch it, pulling as much reassurance from him as I can in the hope that I can just forget this entire thing ever happened and go back to that perfect refuge that he's always provided for me. Slowly but surely, my tense posture and tenser mind begin to unravel.

"Are we... are we gonna be ok?"

His voice is so quiet that I struggle to make out the words, but the insecurity there is undeniable. He's worried that I won't be able to get past it... frightened, even.

The small, vindictive part of me that I never thought would have anything to do with Edward is happy that now _he's_ the one that's frightened.

I sigh again, let him sweat it for a moment, before I answer.

"Yeah, we're gonna be ok."

A long pauses ensues.

"And you still dig me?"

His voice is so shy and innocent, but I can hear the playfulness hiding underneath.

"Maybe. Just a little bit."

"Phew!" he sighs dramatically and I can't help but laugh, feeling the tension of the last few days starting to disintegrate as I lean my shoulder against his.

Dig him, I most definitely do.

* * *

Mass education is fiercely overrated.

"Are you sure you can't just homeschool us?" I ask weakly as we sit in the waiting room to the principals office.

Esme laughs, her caramel hair bouncing as she shakes her head indulgently.

"As much as I do appreciate your faith in my abilities, sweet, you two are much too clever to be missing out on a proper education."

I sigh in resignation - this isn't the first time I've tried to sell her on the merits of home education.

I'm holding his hand as we sit side by side, knowing that once we enter the general school population it won't be appropriate for me to clutch him like a lifeline the entire time.

When the principal's office door opens I sigh quietly and reluctantly let his hand go, directing my gaze to the man who walks through.

_Wow._

He's young... like, early thirties young, and kind of - well, kind of _hot_. Dressed in a blue and white striped button down shirt and charcoal pants with no tie, he looks the exact opposite of what I imagined the school principal to be. His blue eyes seem friendly and welcoming, but I can't shake the tension that always arises when I come into contact with a man I haven't met before.

"Good morning Mrs Cullen!" he says cheerfully.

She stands, laughs, and points at him with a playfully stern expression.

"Hush your mouth! You know better than to call me that."

"My deepest apologies, Esme," he corrects himself with a charming laugh of his own, and shakes her hand before turning his eyes to Edward and I. Edward doesn't seem tense, and even smiles at the man, so I force myself to relax a little.

"Edward, it's good to see you back here! And you must be Isabella Swan."

"She goes by Bella," Esme stage-whispers, and he laughs again.

"Bella, then. It's a pleasure to have you here at Dash. My name is Ashley - yes, my parents are jerks - but most people call me Ash. For the sake of propriety, however, you're probably going to have to call me Principal Greene."

"Nice to meet you," I murmur, unable to stop the small smile that comes up on my face due to his playful self-deprecation.

"The pleasure is all mine, Bella," he responds jovially, "please, come on in."

We walk into his office, Esme leading the group, and seat ourselves in the chairs opposite his desk. His office is just as welcoming as his personality, full of natural light and furniture in creams and light woods. There's a large bookcase lining one of the walls, filled not only with books but also framed, candid photos of school events and various knicknacks. It feels personal, and designed to put people at ease.

And it works.

"Now I know that a meeting with a principal isn't really protocol for your first day of school," he says to Edward and I, "but I figured that it'd be probably be easiest for me to run you through your schedules and any concerns you might have myself. And," he cups his hands around his mouth conspiratorially, "I'll take any excuse I can get to catch up with the lovely Esme Cullen."

She laughs... well, giggles would be a more accurate description, and I can only imagine the response that he gets from mothers who aren't married to men like Carlisle.

He hands Edward and I a manilla folder each, that contains our schedules, a guide to co-curricular activities and several other pieces of information regarding how things operate on campus. He talks us through everything and tells us that he's scheduled us to have some classes together, but for some we'll be separated.

"I do understand," he says in a casual but concerned tone, "that things may be a little bit of an adjustment for you both, so we'll start with this and I need you two to let me know if there'll be any issues or changes that you might need and I'll do my best to make things as smooth as I can for you. My door is always open, and I'd much prefer chatting to going over budgeting for cheerleading uniforms, so please feel free to come around whenever you like."

He winks at us, and I can't help but laugh. I abruptly realise that I'm falling under the same spell that Esme seems to be under, and try to calm myself down before I end up blushing or making a total idiot of myself.

As it turns out, we've been given a pass for first period, so Principal Greene then takes us on a tour of the school, pointing out my classrooms, the senior lunch area, and anything else I might need. Edward is of course already familiar with everything, but comes along anyway, remaining close to my side because I'm sure he's worried that I'll start stressing.

"I thought I'd give you the tour when things aren't too hectic around here," the principal explains before pointing out my locker, which is next to Edward's, a small gesture that doesn't go unnoticed.

With a look at his watch, Principal Greene hums then smiles up at us, gesturing for us to follow once more.

"Wow - time flies, doesn't it? You two have your next class in about five minutes, which I believe you share - English. Bella, from your transcripts and what the lovely Esme has to tell me, you're quite the literature fan?"

I nod shyly.

"Ok, well hopefully the curriculum we offer here will be to your liking. Most of our lit-nerds seem to find it satisfactory."

He gives another playful wink when pauses outside a door.

"Well, this is where I leave you. Your class will be starting momentarily, right here," he gestures to the door, "so have fun, get your slips signed today and please remember to let me know if there's anything you've having trouble with."

"Thanks very much, Principal Greene," Edward says, breaking a rather long silence on his part.

"You're more than welcome, both of you."

He points to Edward, his face serious.

"Edward, be good."

He turns to me, his stern expression morphing into a friendly one instantly.

"Bella, have a great day."

He laughs, waves, and walks away, leaving the two of us standing in the hall.

"He seems... nice."

"Yeah," Edward says with a reminiscent smile. "We had a few run-ins, mainly due to my being a little shit in sophmore year, but he's pretty cool."

I giggle, easily imagining what Edward could have gotten himself into.

"Are you ready for this?" he asks, seriously this time as he reaches for my hands.

Before I can answer, the bell rings, doors all over the hall fly open, and suddenly the hallway is bustling with frantic activity.

Ready or not, normality is upon us.

I'm terrified, overwhelmed, and completely ecstatic.


	36. 36

"This is the worst thing ever."

"Shut up, Bella."

"No, Alice, I will not shut up. You will never understand."

Alice is busy digging through my kitchen for something to eat, but I can tell without her even looking at me that she's rolling her eyes.

"It's school, Bella, not a Nike sweatshop. Calm yourself."

"Yeah, but _school_," I sneer the word, "is full of bitches and skanks and douchebags."

"And Edward."

I huff.

"Well... yeah, Edward. But everyone else sucks ass."

"Then come back with me," she offers brightly around a mouthful of some delicious treat Esme dropped off as part of her weekly meal deliveries. She pretends that it's a spontaneous, I-made-too-much-for-the-boys-last-night-so-I-thought-you'd-like-it sort of thing, but in reality, she drops off what can only be described as a hamper of food - not only pasta sauces and casseroles, but baked goods as well - every single week.

I let her pretend, because I really enjoy eating her food.

"I don't understand why I can't be home schooled."

Alice stops dead, drops the food in her hand and slowly turns to me, her expression stony.

"Because dropping out of school due to fear of skanks would make you a total fucking pussy, and I'm not about to be friends with a total fucking pussy, Bella."

She holds my gaze, completely serious, until I burst out laughing. Checker, who has been dozing with his head on my lap, cocks his head up curiously at the loud noise, then jumps off the window seat we'd been sharing to dart over and try to get in on whatever Alice is enjoying.

"Don't give him anything," I instruct her.

"I know, I know. Sorry Checker, mom says chocolate isn't good for dogs," she says to him, mimicking the old Oreo ad perfectly as he gives her his most innocent, pleading expression. Really, he's getting far too big to be pulling that face, but damn if it doesn't work almost every time. She holds his gaze until he gives up and saunters from the room, the picture of dejection.

Alice walks across the room and flops down at the kitchen table, opening a magazine that is sitting in front of her so I return to my own reading. She sighs dramatically as she flips through the pages in an obvious attempt to get my attention. I ignore it, and she sighs again - much louder and longer this time.

"What's wrong, Alice?"

"Nothing."

Now it's my turn to sigh.

"Out with it."

"I wish you still lived at Jasper's place."

I roll my eyes.

"My most sincere apologies that me trying to get past severe pyschological trauma makes it difficult for you to get my boyfriend's brother imprisoned for statutory rape."

"Bella, when you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole. And also, I'm legal now, so your sole argument against me riding him like the prize stallion he clearly is is null and void."

I'm powerless against the disgusted grimace that covers my face.

"Gross, Alice. And he's back on campus til Thanksgiving, anyway."

"Great," she beams, thrilled at not missing out on months of Jasper being in town but unavaible to her. "That leaves much more time for planning."

"You have a disease."

"Shut up."

"I'm just glad you're applying your sociopathic tendencies to seducing Jasper and not murdering him in a horrendous, Dexter-like fashion."

"I hate you," she grumbles, turning her attention back to her magazine.

"You do not."

"I really, really do."

She says the words, but her mouth is fighting off a smile.

"I love you Alice, despite your conniving, horrible ways."

She huffs, slams her magazine shut and looks at me.

"I love you too. Also, quit whining about school. All highschools are full of bitches and skanks and douchebags, but we must persist, because those people are weeded out by the college application process or end up on Teen Mom, and once we're all in our dorms and away from the bullshit, _that's _when things get awesome.

"You're with Edward, who helps tone down the crazy, and you still get to see my gorgeous face whenever your heart desires. Basically, this is a win win situation, so shut the fuck up about it already."

"Yes, Alice," I sigh sarcastically, even though I'm feeling appropriately chastised and a little bit foolish for my childish behaviour.

"Me, on the other hand? I'm living in a permanent state of blue ovaries because _you," _she points acusingly at me, "chose to put your health and mental wellbeing over my getting laid. So thanks for that."

With that, I leave the room, throwing an "I hate you" over my shoulder at my best friend as I go.

* * *

"How are things with Edward?"

"Good."

I answer too quickly and he sees right through it.

"Ugh - I don't know, they're... ok, I guess?"

"Since the day of the testimonies, you mean."

"Well... yeah, that day sucked."

"Have you two talked about it?"

I glare at him.

"Of course we've talked about it."

Garrett holds his hands up, playfully defensive.

"Alright, alright - I was just checking, don't bite my head off."

"... Sorry."

I'm not really sure why I'm acting like such a bitch about all of this. Probably because, since the incident, Edward and I have barely touched, and I'm feeling like a detoxing meth head or something ridiculous like that. Even though I may not rely on his touch in the ways that I used to when we were first freed, I miss the effortless intimacy, something we seem to have lost even though we both swear that we're past what happened that day.

"So what's really the problem here, Bella?"

"Things haven't been... the same, since it happened. Like, we've talked about it til we're blue in the face -" and we had, "but we're not quite where we were. He's treating me like I'm made of glass and I'm losing my mind here."

"What do you mean by 'made of glass'?"

"Well," I huff, irritated at the very memory of it all, "he speaks to me in this even voice, like I"m going to have a nervous breakdown if my delicate sensibilities get overwhelmed. He does all this sh- stuff for me that he never used to, like picking things up and holding my elbow when we walk places. It's like he watched some shitty Austen adaptation and has taken to mimicking everything he's seen.

"But, when I want him to touch me, he's nowhere to be found. I know that school has been a challenge and we're readjusting to not being in our little bubble of crazy anymore, but I'm losing my damn mind here, Garrett. I don't know what to do."

"Have you ever considered just making the first move?"

"Of course I have!"

... Haven't I?

I shuffle through memories in an instant and realise that once I became aware of Edward's discomfort, I immediately shied away from him for fear of rejection. Which essentially only perpetuates the entire cycle of awkwardness and sexual tension.

Shit.

I look up from my hands to see Garrett looking evenly at me.

"Ok... maybe I haven't."

He smirks, just a little bit, and I scowl at him.

"It's not entirely surprising that he's withdrawn from you, putting his own needs and comfort aside and inadvertantly hurting your feelings, all in the name of protecting you, is it?"

"No."

That's Edward to a tee.

"You need to show him that despite what happened between the two of you, you still want, and even need, there to be a phyiscal element to your relationship. Whether it's sexual or purely just affectionate is up to you."

Definitely sexual, although I'd never be caught dead admitting that to Garrett. I chance another look at him, and I'm ninety nine percent sure he knows anyway.

As soon as my session is done, I climb into the driver's seat of my car, and dial Edward's number.

"Hello, gorgeous," he says into the phone, sounding somewhat distracted.

"Hey, what are you doing right now?"

"I'm just -" he grunts into the phone and I hear Emmett cry out in the background, "schooling my little brother at Xbox."

"Liar!" Emmett yells, then cries out again when Edward presumably schools him some more.

"How are you doing this? It's not fair!"

Edward laughs evilly down the line, and I laugh a little myself imagining the distress on Emmett's face.

"Sorry, what's up?"

I contemplate subtlty for about half a second then decide to take Garrett's advice and go balls to the wall.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come over to my house and fool around a little bit."

Edward chokes on nothing.

"Um, what?"

I fight to remain casual, rather than collapsing under the weight of my nerves and chickening out.

"You heard me."

"Um..." he sounds like he's still not sure what I've offered is for real, "well, yeah, when do you want me to come over?"

"Meet you at my house in 20?"

"... Sure. Absolutely."

I hang up before I burst out laughing at how shocked he sounded by the entire conversation.

I make it home in ten minutes, do a quick sweep of the house to make sure Charlie isn't lurking somewhere unexpected and potentially mortifying, and find a note taped to the frigde informing me that he won't be back tonight.

_Success._

I'm about to head upstairs to change when the doorbell rings. He's early, and I can't keep the smug smile off my face. With a quick glance under my singlet to make sure my bra is appropriately cute, I jog over to the front door and throw it open, a smile on my face.

He looks nervous.

"Uh, hey."

"Hey."

There's an extended moment of awkward silence, and then my laughter fills the air at how ridiculous this situation is. I grasp his hand and pull him inside, leading him to the couch because clearly, there is a conversation that needs to be had.

"You seem a bit freaked out, Edward."

"Well... I'm not _bad_ freaked out, I just wasn't really expecting... that phone call."

"Have you not noticed that we've regressed to thirteen year olds in the physical sense?"

"Bella," he says seriously, "do you watch Maury Povich? Thirteen year olds are getting crazier and crazier by the day."

He's deflecting.

"That's very true," I agree with a condescending pat to his knee, "but not the main concern at the moment. I just... do you not want me like that anymore, or something?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth I realise how insipid and needy I sounded, but it's too late to recall them now so I just wait.

His eyes widen in what appears to be pure surprise at my concern.

"Wha - well, of course I fucking do!"

He seems to genuinely have no idea what has been happening the last few weeks.

"Have you noticed that we don't even hold hands since that day after court?"

His brows furrow as he lapses into deep thought, then a frown crosses his too-pretty-for-his-own-good face when it occurs to him that I'm right.

"Holy fuck."

"Yeah."

"Wow... is that - am I doing that?"

"Well... yeah, you kind of are."

"Oh. Sorry."

I sigh and rub my hands over my face.

"Why is this so awkward? Of everything you and I have ever been, we have never been awkward."

"Ok..." he muses, "so, maybe we just... I don't know, break the ice?"

"How?"

He angles his body so that he's beside me on the couch, but facing me then leans towards me quickly, smacking a loud kiss on my mouth. He quickly pulls back a bit, gauging my face for a reaction.

I laugh.

"Seriously?"

He rolls his eyes to cover his embarrassment, but then pulls me to him, kissing me again. Our lips mold together, a little mechanically as both of us are acutely aware of the awkwardness, but we soon settle back into the groove we know so well. He sucks gently on my bottom lip, illiciting a small moan from me, then I'm on my back on the couch with his body hovering over mine and it's like there was never a distance between us at all.

I feel a small moment of pride before the haze of desire begins to settle over my every thought and impulse.

I did it.

_We _did it.

We managed to pull ourselves out of our crazy and deal with things like rational adults. It may seem like nothing, but to me, it's a step in the direction I've craved from the moment we were freed.

Normalcy.


	37. 37

**EPOV**

I've come to love the way that a punching bag feels against my knuckles.

I know that makes me sound like a future serial killer, but something about the give of the smooth leather when I smash my hand against it, a perfect combination of resistance and submission, seems to calm me down when I'm feeling like there's nothing in the world that could possibly help.

Moments like now, for instance.

Demetri laughs from his position, holding the bag steady as I beat the shit out of it, and the sound breaks my concentration.

"What's so fucking funny?" I grunt, scowling up at him.

"Tone down the masculine theatrics, princess, because I'm sure as shit not buying it. When Marcus called me and told me to work you extra hard this week because you'd need it, he wasn't fucking joking, was he?"

I return my focus to the bag, throwing a punch, then another, then several more in quick succession until Demetri yanks it away from me.

"You're gonna break your fucking knuckles boy, so let's just cool it for a bit."

I know what he's about to suggest before he even says it.

"Treadmill time."

"No," I respond quickly, but I know this battle isn't even worth fighting.

"You do what I tell you, or you go home."

We've had this argument more times than I can count. I get pissed off, refuse to accept that he knows what he's doing, then get sent home for it. I feel like shit as the impotent rage courses through my system until I go back to the gym, accept what he has to say, and he helps me work it out.

"You are such an asshole," I grumble as I rip off my gloves and head for the treadmill.

"Save the words for Marcus, buddy," he says jovially as he sets the machine at a punishing pace.

By the time my workout is done, I'm aching, soaked in sweat, and completely wrecked. I don't know why I feel so much better, but I do, and I've learned not to question it. I always feel... placid after I work out. Kind of benign, as though I don't have the energy to fuck anything up by doing the stupid shit that always seems to happen when I get pissed off about something.

Stupid shit like what happened after we testified in court that day.

I push back those thoughts before they consume me and render my workout completely fucking redundant. Just thinking about what a monumental asshole I was to the girl I love sends a wave of rage thundering through my veins, but thankfully, because I'm so fucking tired from Demetri's thinly veiled sadism, it's somewhat muted.

I manage the drive home and drag myself up the stairs, feeling more tired than usual. I'm positive that Marcus has something to do with this.

What an asshole.

An asshole who knows what he's on about, but an asshole nonetheless.

Ever since that horrible day with Bella, I'd been craving the release of my workouts almost as much as I did when I first started them. Beating something else helped me to stop beating myself up as much, even though I still feel like an absolute dick about it. Bella swears up and down she forgives me, and we even got past the awkwardness that followed, and although things are returning to normal - well, our version of normal - if I let myself, I sink into this self-loathing hole wherein I'm not worthy of a second of her time because of how poorly I've treated her.

I'm a douchebag, but for some reason she loves me, and I love her more than I can process, so I need to stop being a whiny fucker and move on with my life.

Our lives.

Or so Marcus tells me.

Once I'm showered and feeling relatively normal again, my stomach kicks into gear, demanding nourishment to the point where I can't possibly ignore it. Groaning almost as loudly as it is, I haul ass down the stairs, thankfully running into my mother before I'm forced to prepare something substandard for myself.

"Mommy?" I call in my sweetest voice as I push open the kitchen door.

"You are far too old to be calling me that, sweet boy," she chides playfully, then sticks her head into the fridge because she knows what I'm going to ask before I even say it.

"Because you love me so much, would you -"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll fix you something."

I quickly lean over the island to kiss her cheek, and she rolls her eyes, although I can see the smile fighting its way to the surface.

A few minutes later, I'm presented with some reheated pasta from last night, which almost burns my mouth off on as I scarf it down. My mom sits herself down at the other end of the table, watching with disgust all over her face.

"What?" I garble out around a piece of sausage.

"I swear, you weren't raised in any house of mine," she says, shaking her head.

"Sorry mother, but this -" I gesture to my body with my fork, "is all your doing."

"You are a savage, beloved."

I smile wide, my mouth full of food, and she covers her eyes in horror.

"Oh, that is just awful, Edward. Truly, I don't know what that lovely Bella sees in you."

She's teasing, and I know that, but there's a part of me that takes those words to heart.

Unfortunately for Bella, I'm the best she's got.

* * *

Bella and I don't exactly see eye to eye about schooling.

I'd always just cruised through, making friends on the track team, dating the occasional girl, but never really involving myself in the ridiculous high school politics that so many people allow to consume their every waking thought.

Apparently, even though I had no interest in it at all, that didn't stop the people who _were _into it from being interested in me.

And, by association, they are now interested in Bella.

Not that I can blame them, because I'm pretty fucking interested in her myself.

I meet Bella at her car, a smile on my face. She's wearing this dark blue t-shirt, v-necked and perfectly fitted without being too tight, with a pair of black skinny jeans. She's all messy hair and nonchalance and she's so fucking gorgeous it makes my heart twist in this embarrassing, overwhelmingly girly way that I would never admit to anybody.

"Hello, Beautiful."

"Hey."

I grab her bag from her hand, a little shocked at how heavy it is, and carry it for her as we walk through the parking lot to our first shared class of the day. In the periphery of my vision, I see one of Tanya's minions pointing in our general direction, and the hiss of stupidly loud whispers ensues as we walk by.

Fucking ridiculous.

The girls at school are taking two different, but no less irritating, tacks to assure that she doesn't somehow ascend to social dominance over them. There's the Tanya's, who sneer from a distance and start what they think are hurtful rumors that are actually kind of hilarious. All of this is done in the hope that she is frightened so much that she never dares to challenge them for position at the top of the school's heirachy.

These girls get ignored, by both Bella and myself, because they're cowardly little bitches.

"Hi, Bella! Hi, Edward! Oh my gosh, Bella, where did you get that purse? It's divine!"

Angela gestures wildly at the large, studded black leather bag that is now slowly breaking my fingers with its sheer weight.

"Oh... thanks, Angela. It was a gift from my best friend."

"Oh... Alice, right? We should totally all hang out some time! I bet she's just as awesome as you are!"

I laugh under my breath as she darts off, and Bella elbows me in the ribs.

There are the Tanya's, and then there's the Angela's. Girls who have spent their lives on the second rung of the social ladder, and are pinning their dreams for ascendency on Bella. They attempt to buddy up with her in the hopes that when she leads a social revolution, they can ride her coat tails straight to the top.

These girls receive polite ambivalence, because they're so outwardly friendly and sweet to her that I can't really fault them, despite their completely transparent agendas.

The amusing thing about the whole situation is that Bella doesn't give a fuck about social politics, so both groups of girls are completely wasting their time and effort.

At least, I find it amusing.

Bella, on the other hand, finds it infuriating, and I often catch her muttering about homeschooling under her breath after these kinds of encounters. Which just makes me laugh harder, usually resulting in a swift slap to my arm, or, if she's feeling particularly cruel, a nipple cripple or an elbow to the ribs.

"I swear to god, Edward, if they don't start leaving me alone I'm going to be forced to drop out of school and become a stripper."

"I certainly wouldn't mind if you did," I snark at her.

"You are disgusting, and I hate you."

I jolt to a dramatic pause and clutch at my chest with my free hand, feigning agony. She smirks.

"Why do you hurt me with your lies?"

"I'm not lying. You suck donkey ass."

"And she does it again!" I cry out, pressing the back of my hand against my forehead in the most theatrical way I can.

"And you know what hurts the worst? That they're not even believable!"

"Shut up."

"Why must you hurt me so with your ridiculous fallacies, Bella? Why?"

Her eyes dart around the parking lot as I continue with my performance, noting that several people have turned to see what has me behaving like a total moron.

She looks back at me with a scowl.

"Oh, my god. I'm leaving now. But please, feel free to continue your one man show."

She storms off, leaving me laughing at how easily embarrassed she is.

Still, that'll teach her to claim that she hates me.

"Pissing Bella off again, brother?"

I turn to see Emmett strolling towards me, ever the over-confident freshman.

"You can't talk to me on school property, dude. You're bad for my image."

He rolls his eyes.

"Fuck you, I'm the coolest freshman this shithole has ever seen, and if you weren't here, cramping my style with your lameness, I'd be running the show already by now."

"Shut your mouth, fucker," I growl playfully with a jab at his elbow. "I will break you in half if you give me that attitude again."

He may have the freakish height, but I have the muscle and fight training.

"One day, I'm going to remind you of that statement, and then I'm gonna beat you into the ground. One day soon."

I just laugh heartily, dismissing his words.

"Mark my words, brother."

I just laugh harder, and he scowls.

"God, it's no wonder Bella hates you."

"It's alarmingly easy, isn't it?"

I swivel at the sound of her sweet voice, and she snatches her bag from my hand, smacks a loud kiss to my mouth, then runs off, giggling in that way that I should find annoying, but I absolutely fucking love.

"Later, Em. Wait!"

And I'm running after her. I sweep her up in my arms, relishing the way her giggles turn to squeals as I pull her off the ground. With my arms wrapped securely around her from behind, I spin us both, her legs flying out like a helicopter's propellers.

"Stop! Edward, STOP IT!"

I ignore her.

"Oh my god, I'm going to hurl!"

Those words have me drop her to the ground, only to spin her around and pick her up, lifting her once again, but so our chests are pressed together and our faces are awesomely close.

"Taking out the trash, are we, Edward?"

Moment ruined.

"Get bent, skank," Bella snaps, without removing her gaze from me, and I can't help but smile at her sass. As much as it drives me up the fucking wall, it's one of my favorite things about her.

Tanya huffs, sufficiently offended by what was, in my opinion, a fairly tame beat down, and walks off.

"Now, where were we?" she asks, her voice taking on the tone that means she's planning on kissing me soon, and my smile widens as I flex my arms around her tiny body, still nestled in my arms and a few inches off the ground.

"Right about -"

The sharp buzzing of the school bell sends us both careening back into reality.

"Motherfucker," Bella curses lowly, then pecks my lips quickly and wiggles her way out of my grip. I sigh loudly as I watch her walk into the building, hips swaying in that wonderful way that makes me want to drag her into the backseat of my car.

But alas... we have classes to attend.

Motherfucker, indeed.


	38. 38

Tomorrow is my birthday.

Ugh.

One of the things I love most about being around Charlie is that every year, when my birthday rolled around, he would ask me what I wanted to do to celebrate, and we would do exactly that. For my fifth birthday, I had an under the sea theme with a girl dressed as a mermaid floating around our pool during the party, for Christ's sakes. He also appreciates that now that I'm older, a casual dinner at my favourite Mexican place will do just fine.

Apparently, not everyone agrees with his methods... or my wishes.

Esme is flitting around like a hummingbird, calling every ten minutes to ask if I like cashews, how I feel about chicken as opposed to shrimp, and about a thousand other, often bizarre questions about my food preferences. Alice has gotten involved in the effort as well, and even Rosalie has joined in on the party-planning club, having seemed to develop something of a girl crush on on my best friend. I suspect it's because Alice constantly lavishes her with compliments about her long, golden hair and what she describes as 'flawless bone structure.'

I'm forbidden from being involved, which is convenient because I have absolutely no interest in it whatsoever.

Edward certainly doesn't seem to mind.

"I like having you to myself," he murmurs against the skin of my shoulder, his arms around my waist and his chest pressed to my back. I thrust backwards sharply, using my ass as a weapon to force him away before i forget my task entirely.

"You wanted lunch, Mister. Stop distracting me!"

He chuckles lowly as he steps back up to my back, and I can't help but shudder, just a tiny bit, when his breath hits my skin.

"I changed my mind," he breathes.

I pivot within the confines of his arms and poke him acusingly in the chest.

"Listen here, buddy. I'm getting real sick of you and your - "

My burgeoning rant is cut off by his mouth against mine. Within seconds, it is forgotten entirely and I'm being lifted onto the kitchen island, lying back across it as Edward vaults himself up after me, pressing his body down on mine. The cold granite contrasts deliciously with his warm skin, and his few days of stubble scratching against my chin and throat only heightens my sensitivity.

That is, until my back muscles start aching from the rock hard surface I'm pressed against. I wrap my leg firmly around Edward's thigh and begin to flip us over, until -

"OW! What the fuck, Bella?"

Edward is on the floor.

"Oh my god! Are you ok?"

I jump off the counter and crouch down beside him, frantically running my hands over him as I check for injuries. He's scowling at me as he rubs at the back of his head.

"I'm fine," he grumbles.

And then I'm laughing. Not delicate, girlish giggles, but a loud snort follwed by full-blown, embarrassing guffaws as I abruptly realise the ridiculousness of this situation.

"Shut up," he growls, pulling me against him and wincing as my body weight presses on his already sore form. This only makes me laugh harder.

"Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry," I gasp through even more laughter. "Really, I am." I run my fingers softly through his hair, rubbing gently on the bump I can already feel is emerging.

"If you didn't want to kiss me anymore, you could have just said so."

He sounds grumpy, but when I look at his face, he's fighting off a smile, so I kiss him until he gives in and is chuckling himself. We kiss some more as I softly massage his head.

"I always want to kiss you," I murmur against his mouth. He pushes his lips hard against mine, then pulls back, pressing our foreheads together.

"Good. And, if you ever change your mind, please don't throw me from a significant height onto a tiled floor."

Kiss.

"I'll try to remember that."

Kiss.

"Good."

One last long, closed mouth kiss and I pull away, stand up and then offer him a hand to help him off the floor.

"And regardless," I add smugly, "it's my birthday, so you can't get me in trouble."

He rolls his eyes and pulls me into his side.

"It's not your birthday yet, baby."

"Irrelevant."

He laughs, smacks a kiss to my temple, and leads us into the living room, presumably in search of a more comfortable locale for a make out session. A location he quickly finds in the form of the living room couch.

I'm dropped on the couch and his body is pressing over mine in the ways that make me want to wrap myself around him like a curling vine, attaching at every conceivable point. Soon, my skirt is around my waist, as per usual, both of our shirts are on the floor and Edward's hands are stroking up over my stomach as he tries to subtly go for the boob grope. I don't know why he bothers pretending that it's not where he's heading, but I indulge him, arching my body into his hands to show him that I want it too.

I'm rewarded with a quiet groan that makes all of his sillyness worthwhile.

The way his long fingers press gently into my skin, almost completely covering the expanse of my chest, makes me moan a little bit, too.

His lips leave mine, trailing over my jaw, pausing at my throat as his tongue peeks out to lave at the skin there. I'm covered in goosebumps despite the uncanny warmth September in Miami brings, and mewling as I pull at his shoulders, urging him closer and closer but never close enough.

He drifts further south, nipping at my collar bone, gently scraping his teeth across the curve of my breast, and then he sucks my nipple into his mouth, pulling on it gently. He's focused, humming against my skin as he makes his steady descent. Fingers, then lips on ribs, then I'm flinching as he crosses the ticklish expanse of my stomach and then he's at my hip bone, kissing it as he slides his fingers into my underwear and skirt, pulling them down together in one motion.

Instinctively, I tense as his lips relocate to the inside of my thighs, unable to completely push away the apprehension regardless of the depth of my trust in him. He places one hand low on my stomach between my hip bones, and I reach for it, twining our fingers together as he kisses his way slowly to exactly where he knows he's wanted.

I'm writhing before he even makes contact, the very feel of his breath against me enough to make my brain shut down in the loveliest way. When his soft lips hit my wet skin, I'm lost and found as every nerve ending in my body seems to relocate to each point where his skin meets mine.

He licks me once, bottom to top, as if surveying the landscape and the loud sigh that leaves me seems a perfect counterpoint to his action. His free hand moves to meet his mouth, spreading me apart to give him more access as he covers me in kisses, then licks, then he's sucking and my eyes won't ever unroll from their place in my head if he keeps doing that.

His fingers move, pressing inside and I'm clutching at his other hand, begging for I-don't-even-know-what but he delivers it in spades and I'm floating and climbing and it's all too much but if he ever stops I'll murder him. My legs shake as they close in around his head, my free hand locked in my hair and my face pressed into my arm as I hold back a scream, or maybe a sob.

When he hits the place, we both know it. I cry out, wanton and whorish and completely uncaring, and he zeroes in on it, all tongue and lips and a little bit of teeth as his fingers curve up from the inside, pressing on the spot from every angle. He stays there, pushing and sucking and just enough bite for me to lose it entirely.

It can't be over, not yet.

"No, no, no - yesssssssssssssssss!"

The shudder starts somewhere in my stomach, spreading to my legs that quiver around his head, up through my arms and rolling down my spine over and over again. My upper body lurches forward as the shudder intensifies, my very being pulling me towards him as he rides me through it, maintaining his attention even as I thrash and pull at him and cry out a choked, garbled version of his name.

Eventually, my limbs relax, and fall limp, the entire remainder of my energy going into the lazy smile that now adorns my face. He pulls himself away from my and if I could, I'd use my thighs to trap him there forever, but for the life of me, I can't seem to make them move.

"Hey."

I can't even bring myself to be bothered by the smug smile on his face.

"Shut up," I murmur, the words coming out slightly slurred by the heavy perfection still lingering in my muscles. He slowly presses his body over mine, his warmth only increasing my numbing euphoria, and kisses me gently - jaw, cheeks, lips. I force up my arms up to wrap around him, and I'm barely lucid.

"So I guess I was hungry after all," he muses.

I manage to conjure up a grimace because his words deserve one.

"You... are disgusting."

"You love me."

"If you keep doing that, I'll love you forever," I mutter into the skin where his neck meets his shoulder.

He laughs, all throaty and gorgeous and vibrating over me, and I pull him closer. I can feel his boner poking into my leg, but it's going to have to wait, because I'm paralyzed for the moment.

Once the haze ascends, I realize that I'm naked in the living room and groggily pull myself into a seating position so I can, at the very least, get some underwear on. Edward pouts when I sloppily yank my panties back into place, and I roll my eyes playfully at him before plopping myself down in his lap.

"Don't look at me like that. It's my birthday - I can wear underwear if I want to."

He glares at me.

"It's not your birthday yet, so lose 'em." He starts toying with the waistband, but I slap his hand away.

"Never."

"What if I want to give you another birthday present?" he asks innocently, his hands creeping back to the elastic. For a minute, I'm lost to the memories and the desire to relive them as soon as humanly possible, but my rational side prevails and I smack his hands away again.

"Charlie will be home in less than an hour, and as much as I enjoy the view of your face between my legs, I'm not sure he would agree."

He groans deeply.

"Why do you have to go saying something all sexy, and then bring your dad into it? It's just cruel."

I laugh at the boy I love and his theatrics.

"Just imagine how unsexy it'd be if it actually happened though, rather than me just mentioning it as a hypothetical."

"Alright, alright!" he cries, hands raised defensively. "I get it, clothes stay on. Now please, for the love of God, stop talking about Charlie and our sex life as if the topics even remotely go together."

"Ok," I sigh, still laughing a little bit. I slide my fingers into his hair, massaging gently and his eyes drift close, a deep, grumbly moan leaving his lips.

"If you wanted to talk about, say, Alice... that would be different."

I tug sharply on his hair, making his eyes snap open.

"You're gross!"

"Have I told you lately how pretty you are? And how much I love you?"

As much as I see through his blatant attempts to calm my ire, I can't help but smile, just a little bit, and let him kiss me before he settles back down against me and wiggles his head, a silent instruction for me to pick back up with the head massage.


	39. 39

Time passes differently in the real world than it did in the room, or in the strange little bubble Edward and I created to help us deal with everything that happened. Each individual moment doesn't feel as heavily weighted, and doesn't feel like it takes an eternity to move on to the next.

Out in the real world, time is flying past us, leaving me feeling slightly dazed by just how quickly things are changing, and will continue to change. I no longer have to chase normality, because I have it now.

We both do.

Of course, things still flare up occasionally. Someone will make a shitty joke about a taser or something equally as stupid and I'll slip, just a little, into that dark place that I've very nearly closed up completely, but on the whole, things are good.

Between Edward and I, they are better than good.

The trial is still running, but our involvement in it is over. I still see Garrett, but we talk about other things for the most part. My future, what I want from it, and ways of making sure that wherever the world takes me, my past won't cast a shadow that I can't get out from underneath. Edward still sees Marcus, and Demetri, although I suspect the latter is mostly out of sheer vanity.

Not that I have any complaints about that.

He's even got me exercising with him, although I'm not sure he realises that my motivation lies predominantly in watching the way his muscles tense and flex as he jogs alongside me.

While our lives are settling down into a pattern of school, home, occasional fooling around and general normalcy, a whole new set of challenges awaits us. Things that, those months ago when we were in that room, I thought would never again be an option for me.

We have futures now... and it's terrifying.

Before it all happened, I'd considered my love for literature to be the only thing about me that could translate into a profession. Now, I'm not so sure that liking to read is really a big enough part of my life to necessitate hinging my entire career off of it.

I'm a smart girl. While I excel in humanities subjects - history and english for example - I'm definitely science and maths literate, and the more I think on it, the clearer the picture becomes in my mind.

If I studied my ass off, I could help people who have been through what I went through. I could do what Garrett does, pull people from that darkest place they can see no way out of. I'm probably more equipped than most, considering just how dark that blotch on my past is.

_I knocked on the door to Edward's father's home office, leaning my ear against the cool wood as I awaited his response._

_"Come in!"_

_I turned the doorknob all the way around, pausing to take a deep breath, because for some ridiculous reason I was nervous. This man had seen me sobbing, clutching onto his son like a crazy person while trying to protect him from nonexistent demons, but a simple conversation about my future had me terrified._

_Probably because I suspected he might just laugh in my face when I told him what I wanted to do. I know I'd found it more than a little ridiculous at first._

_"Carlisle? Can I talk to you for a moment?"_

_"Bella, honey!" he looked up, surprised but welcoming. "Of course you can, take a seat."_

_He gestured to the leather armchair on the other side of his desk, and I quickly walked over and perched on the edge of it, fighting back to urge to curl up in a ball and, in so doing, put my dirty shoes on what I'm sure was a very expensive piece of furniture._

_"What can I do for you, sweetheart?"_

_"I think I want to be a doctor."_

_He leaned back in his chair, obviously a little surprised by my admission. _

_Naturally, I began speaking, trying to make myself sound like slightly less of an idiot and more or less doing the exact opposite._

_"Obviously, I know I can't go straight to medical school, I have to do my four years of undergraduate study, preferably with a science major, then four years of medical school, then another four years of..."_

_I looked up to see him fighting back laughter at my nervous rambling, so I immediately cut myself short._

_"Four years of what, Bella?"_

_I grimaced, a little shy to admit to another person what I was thinking about._

_"I was thinking... four years of psychiatry residency."_

_He paused, his brow furrowing then unfurrowing as he quickly picked through my ramblings for the important information._

_"Wow... Bella, that's amazing!"_

_He didn't laugh in my face... in fact, he actually sounded kind of impressed._

_"I just... I wanted to talk to you, because you're a doctor and you've obviously been there and I need you to tell me if I'm being an idiot or if I'm clearly not smart enough, or doctor-y enough to be able to pull this off."_

_He couldn't hold back his laugh then._

_"Bella, I'm not entirely sure what being 'doctor-y' enough entails, but I am sure beyond a doubt that you are smart enough to handle what this academic track holds for you. And believe me, if you aren't, you'll learn it very quickly when you get into organic chemistry during undergrad." _

_He winked playfully at me, and I leant back in my chair, feeling immediately better that he didn't burst out laughing when I told him what I was thinking about._

_"So," he went on, "psychiatry, huh?"_

_And I was bashful all over again._

_"Yeah," I said, fixing my eyes on the leather top of his antique desk, noting that it matched the chair I was sitting in. "I just... Garrett really helped me, and maybe, if I could help other people, the whole experience - all the crap we went through - might not have to be for nothing. I know it's silly, and maybe not a good reason to do this, but I can't help but feel like -"_

_"Bella, that sounds like a brilliant motivation. Turning what was, beyond a doubt, a more negative experience than most people can comprehend, into something positive, for both yourself and others, sounds like an amazing thing to do."_

_"Oh... uh, thanks. It just kind of occurred to me one day that this could awesome."_

_"You do realise that this is a very big undertaking, don't you Bella?"_

_I nodded._

_"Four years undergrad, four years medical school, four years residency, with an additional one or two more if I want to work with adolescents or children," I replied, showing him that I'd done my research._

_"Clearly, google has served you well," he smiled, and I looked away, embarrassed by my enthusiasm._

_We talked for a while longer, me asking questions about both undergrad and med school, and by the time we were finished, I was more sure than ever before._

_I wanted to be a psychiatrist._

Edward, on the other hand, has no idea what he wants to do with himself.

"How can you have absolutely no inkling about where your life might want to go?"

"Err, because I'm 18 years old and a senior in high school? Bella, I rarely think past what I'm going to be eating for dinner, and even then, that's up to my mom."

I roll my eyes, even though he probably can't see it because I'm sitting in his lap. We're cuddled up in an arm chair, a movie going ignored on the huge tv in front of us.

"Whatever. Ok, so what things do you like?"

"I like video games, whaling on my little brother, and your boobs."

He quickly squeezes said boobs before I can smack his hands away, swivelling in his lap so I can glare at his face.

His gorgeous, kissable, so-cheeky-I-kind-of-want-to-smack-it face.

"Ok, so that gives us absolutely nothing."

"Hey!" he cries, pretending to be hurt by my words. "I could be... a video game developer."

I roll my eyes.

"We both know you're not nearly computer literate enough to do that."

"We do _not_ know that!"

"Edward, what do you do when your internet goes down? What's the first step?"

"Swear. Maybe threaten it. Then whine at Jasper until he fixes it for me. Or if Jasper is not available, Emmett."

I gaze at him balefully.

"Ladies and gentleman, the next Bill Gates."

"Alright fine," he huffs, "nerdy occupations are officially out. I'm too ripped for that shit, anyway."

He flexes his arms lewdly, and I elbow him in the chest.

"I barely even felt that," he says smugly, so I lightly smack his cheek.

"Ow, Bella! What the fuck?"

He grabs his cheek and stares at me, appalled.

"Did you feel that?" I taunt.

He scowls until I lean in and kiss his cheek better, than his jaw, then his nose, then his mouth.

As his tongue slides over mine and his hands slide down under the bottom of my shirt to rest on my lower back, I realise that he's trying, and succeeding, in distracting me away from our conversation.

"Ed-" he cuts me off with another kiss, so I put my hands on his broad chest and firmly push him away. Well, as far away as I can considering I'm straddling his thighs on an armchair only designed for one occupant.

"Edward, stop distracting me."

"Isn't this more fun than stupid," he lifts my hand and kisses my palm, "boring," he uses his grip on my palm to pull me to him and kisses my jaw, "completely unnecessary," my ear, "talking?"

His lips are back on mine and for a few moments I'm in complete agreement that this is better than stupid, boring, completely unnecessary talking.

Until I abruptly remember that this is the fourth time he's tried to divert me away from this conversation using the exact same techniques.

This time, it won't work.

... Unlike the other three times, when it worked perfectly.

"Edward," I mumbled, turning my head away and out of reach of his roving lips, "I could end up anywhere from Pennsylvania to California, and if we're going to do this together -"

"We are," he says surely, and I can't help but smile at him like the love struck idiot I am.

"Well then we need to figure this out."

He groans.

"Can't I just be your trophy husband?"

"I'm pretty sure you've got too much money to be a gold digger, Edward."

"I'll be a trust fund baby, then."

"Bored out of your mind is what you'll be."

"Nah, I'll be a stay at home dad, with the kid in a kangaroo pouch while I have lunch with my friends and spend my days fending off MILFS."

I glare at him.

"And who's going to mother this MILF-bait for you?"

"You are, baby," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it kind of is, but I'm too irritated by his talk of MILFs to acknowledge that.

I flick his nose.

"Ow!"

"You are such an idiot."

"But you love me, right?"

"Not when you're talking about using our future children as bait to lure other women."

"Well, when you put it like that, of course you're upset," he says like it's thoroughly ridiculous of me to draw that from what he's just said.

"How else can I put it?" I ask, completely unimpressed.

"I'd be MILF-hunting for my friends, not for myself! Did I not mention that?"

He looks nervous now, and I force my laughter back to preserve my facade of being angry with him, enjoying his discomfort.

"No, you didn't."

He puts one large, warm hand on each of my cheeks, making my face feel tiny. He forces me to meet his eyes, and looks at me for a long moment before he speaks.

"Bella, you know that you're the only MILF I'd ever want to hunt."

What. An. Idiot.

"Edward, I'm not a MILF."

"But one day, you will be."

"And how do you know that?"

"Well, because when we have babies, I'm still going to want you every day. Several times a day, most likely. Thus, you will be a MILF. My MILF."

Before I can even begin to protest the ridiculous turn this conversation has taken, his lips are back on mine, and the topic of college is abandoned... yet again.


	40. 40

"A doctor, Bella? Are you fucking kidding me?"

I scowl at my best friend over our iced teas, even though she probably can't see it through my sunglasses.

"And what exactly do you see me doing with my life, Alice?"

"Following me to New York and being my ultimate-bestie-slash-PA."

The 'duh' she left off the end of the sentence is more than made up for by her tone.

I push my glasses up into my hair so she can fully experience the disgusted expression on my face.

"Alright," she sighs, "but you do realize that all the best medical schools are in cold, generally horrible places where people wear sweatpants to class, don't you?"

"Alice, people wear sweatpants outdoors. It's something you're going to have to get used to at some point."

"I will do no such thing!"

"You are an idiot."

"I swear to god, Bella, if I ever catch you in like, hiking boots or cargo pants or some shit, our friendship will be over. And don't think that just because I'll be somewhere fabulous like New York or Paris that I won't know, because I will."

"It's the East Coast, not central Africa, Alice."

"They wear _flannel_ there," she hisses the word like she doesn't want anyone around us to know she even spoke it. "_Flannel._ And not just as pajamas!"

"Thanks for the support, best friend. Truly, it means the world to me."

"Pssh," she dismisses me with a wave of her hand. "I'm fully aware that you're brilliant, and you'll be the hottest doctor since Addison Montgomery-Shepard. I , as your best friend, am just concerned about the impact that being in such a desolate, horrid place in the world will have on you. And rightly so."

"Alice, most of the places I'd be thinking about going to, _in five years_ I might add, are within hours of your beloved New York."

She glares at me for a long moment, only to be interrupted by a waiter setting down our lunches before us.

"Alright," she says begrudgingly, "but if you get a new best friend who dresses like a lumberjack or has ironic piercings, I will come down there and beat the shit out of them. You have been warned."

"Alice."

"You have been warned," she repeats, before she picks up her fork and the conversation is forgotten.

"So," she says after swallowing a mouthful of her salad, "you and Edward fucking yet?"

I promptly choke on my own lunch.

"Alice!"

"What?"

The innocent look on her face baffles me.

"This is _so_ not polite lunch conversation!"

"Oh, whatever," she says, chewing on another mouthful. "Yes or no?"

I spend the next minute fastidiously focused on my meal, partially because I'm embarrassed, and partially because I'm enjoying her mounting rage as her curiosity goes unsatisfied.

"... No, we're not."

"What?"

I shake my head, confirming my words as my eyes slide back down to my meal.

"You're not even playing 'just the tip'?"

My eyes snap back to my best friend.

"Alice, oh my god! Conversation closed!"

"You've seen him naked though, right?"

I don't respond, too appalled by the turn this conversation has taken to frame any words.

"Right?" she repeats, sounding more and more panicked by the minute.

"Yes! Yes, I have seen him naked and it is glorious! But we're not fucking, we're not 'just the tipping', we're resting, _quite happily I might add_, on third base! So shut your fucking trap."

Our waiter backing away catches my attention, and I slap my hands over my face, completely mortified as Alice guffaws with laughter.

"That was priceless!"

"I actually hate you," I mutter, my words muffled by my hands, which I refuse to remove until the waiter is gone... or preferably until I've left the restaurant altogether.

She finally falls silent, so I slowly pull my hands back from my face. As soon as my eyes meet hers, she's laughing again, her tiny fist smacking against the table and rattling our cups as tears stream down her face.

I reach for my purse and move to stand.

"Bella," she wheezes, "don't go. I'm just being an asshole."

She breathes in and out three times, moving her hands up and down in front of her chest, to calm herself.

I drop my bag back to the floor, still glaring at her.

"I'm sorry babe, but you have to see how hilarious that was."

I really do, but I'm too embarrassed to care.

"Can we move on now?"

"Sure," she says with an easy shrug, "now that you've painted me quite the picture, my curiosity is sated."

She picks up her fork and focuses back on her lunch, but I can see her shoulders shaking with held in laughter.

"Just get it out of your system," I sigh, only to be deafened by her laughter before I can even finish my sentence. I sigh again, roll my eyes, and try to get back to my meal, all the while wishing that I didn't have such an asshole of a best friend, and at the same time, wondering what I'll do without her when we go our separate ways for college.

* * *

"You actually said that, in the middle of a crowded restaurant?"

"It wasn't that crowded," I huff, but Edward is laughing almost as heartily as Alice was at the time. I cross my arms over my chest, thoroughly regretting choosing to tell him this story as he falls back onto his bed in the throes of laughter.

"I'm kind of flattered, to be honest," he says as he sits up and calms himself. "That you felt the need to exclaim in public how awesome I am in the sack."

"I should talk to Garrett about why all the people I love are such bastards to me. There has to be some reason for it. Maybe not having a mother figure in my life."

"Bella," he sighs, "it's funny. You know it is. And you do have a mother figure... _my_ mother. She loves you more than me, I'm sure of it."

I smile at the thought of Esme as my mind flicks back through all the amazing things the lovely southern woman has done in the short months she's known me.

"Well, at least I have that going for me."

There's a period of silence before he speaks again, his voice quieter this time.

"Is... is that something you want to do?"

"What?"

"You know, what you talked about with Alice."

"Just the tipping?"

"Well... not that necessarily, but yeah, the sex thing."

"Of course it is."

"It's just not something we've really talked about, and you know I'm not going to push you until you're ready, but I just -"

"Edward, I definitely want to have sex with you."

"Oh... well, good."

He grins a little - not smug or arrogant, but happy, and a little surprised.

"Did you think that I wouldn't want to?"

"Well... I kind of hoped you would, but I'm not going to get on your back about it, because I'm not an asshole like that. I just assumed you'd bring it up when you were ready, and you did."

I'm baffled.

"... You think that this embarrassing public display was my roundabout way of bringing up sex with you?"

He shrugs.

"Maybe."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

I'm just about to properly lose it when I realize that he's fighting back laughter, so I tackle him down onto the bed, using all of my meager strength to pin him down.

"Sometimes, I really do hate you, Edward Cullen."

"How could you hate me?" he asks between laughs. "I'm _glorious_."

I punch him in the chest and try to climb off him, only to be imprisoned by his arms and held against his chest and between his long, outstretched legs.

"I love you," he singsongs in my ear, so I struggle even harder to get away from him, in full sulk mode now.

"And I think you're glorious too," he continues, his voice lowering. "Especially when we do things together in bed. Or on the couch, or in the kitchen, or in my car."

His mouth brushes against the skin below my ear, warm and lovely. I stop struggling and sag against him, lulled by his tone of voice and the feeling of him surrounding me. Rather than making a cage, his arms encase me gently, fingertips pushing up the bottom of my shirt and gently tracing my belly and sides as he speaks.

"You do this thing when you're close that I love. When you're just about to come. Your back arches up, and your mouth falls open, and it's just about the most glorious thing I could ever fucking imagine. Your legs shake around my head, and your little feet press on my back, pulling me as close as you can, and there is nothing better than that in the entire fucking world."

I mewl quietly as his hands move lower, sliding just under the waistband of my shorts to torture me.

"You taste like fucking heaven and the noises you make... I can't even put words together to explain to you just how amazing they are. Listening to them rise as you get closer and closer until you get there and you say _my_ name. It's fucking perfect, and glorious doesn't even come close to describe it."

Completely entranced by the sound of his voice and the feel of his fingers on my hips, I push against him, searching for friction. He pushes back against me, and as soon as I receive confirmation that he wants this too, I swivel within the confines of his grip, pressing my lips to his and sliding my fingers straight into his hair.

With a low groan he leans back until he's against the mattress, pulling me down with him. His hands trace up and down my sides, under my shirt and over my shorts, and he doesn't push beyond that, beyond our need to be close to one another. I revel in the feel of his body over his t-shirt, the soft skin of his neck and his messy hair in my hands.

"So," he murmurs, pulling away from my lips with a smile. His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining, and he's perfect.

"So?" I mimic, dropping my lips to his throat.

"Feel like a game of 'just the tip?'"

I pull back instantly, only to glare at him when I see the pure mischief all over his face. He starts laughing, his body shaking mine with its convulsions, and I start smacking at him until he pulls himself together and tries to hug me close.

"I thought you were serious for a second!"

"Maybe I am," he smirks, and I want to punch the smile off his face. He looks at my seriously unimpressed expression and his smug one fades.

"You know I was kidding, Bella. I just couldn't help myself."

He's still chuckling a little bit as he tries to justify himself.

What an assface.

"Well, now that the sexy mood is officially eviscerated, I'm going to hang out with Esme," I announce, jumping up before he can pull me back down.

"What?"

"Yep."

"But... I can't go down there! Not like this!"

He gestures to his tented pants, and now it's my turn to laugh.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you suggested game time. Now you'll just have to play with yourself."

I've just about reached the doorway when I swivel on the spot, dart across the room and throw myself back onto the bed and into his arms. I giggle at his complete shock that I've come back and then kiss the dumbfounded expression off his face.

As if there's any place I'd rather be.

* * *

**AN: Ok ladies and gents (despite how extremely unlikely it is that there are any gents in my readership), we're starting wind down now. We'll see these kids through a couple more challenges (and I know you all want to see if Alice gets her man), maybe on outtake or two, but we're looking at 47 chapters in total.**

**That said, do not despair! I'm already working on something new for you guys… although knowing me I'll probably write 10 chapters then delete the whole thing in a frenzy of self-loathing brought on by how much it sucks ass.**

**But that's neither here nor there.**

**Catch you next time, lovelies!**

**LOVE YOU ALL**


	41. 41

High school is over.

Like… completely over.

And I got into college.

A really good one.

A really, _really_ good one… that is, according to my googling, 571 miles away from the one Edward got into.

Everyone – Edward included – keeps telling me to do what's best for me, and there's no doubt that in terms of going pre-med, Cornell is best for me. Logically, I know that it is. And I know that UNC will be a great fit for Edward, with his goals in exercise science. Which I'm beyond thrilled about, by the way. I'm ecstatic that I won't be spending the rest of my life with a trust fund baby toting a kangaroo pouch that I'm expected to fill. He finally stopped messing around long enough to discover that he actually held a real passion for sports and exercise, and began looking into schools with strong programs in the area. I couldn't have been more proud and excited when he'd been accepted to his first choice of schools.

But the idea of being away from him for weeks, or even months at a time makes me hurt in a way that I'm completely unaccustomed to.

Not in the old way. The crushing, overwhelming terror that his absence used to create is no longer something I feel. Those demons are slowly being relegated to my past, something I couldn't be happier about.

No, this is a new kind of pain entirely.

It's a cloying, heavily weighted ache in my chest, which, if I let it, has the power to steal the breath from my lungs and make me feel like I might be sick.

Initially, it frightened me, made me worry that the feelings I'd been fighting to overcome were manifesting in a new way, but when I spoke to Garrett about it, he just smiled affectionately and told me that when you love someone, the idea of being parted from them for extended periods hurts. It's not unnatural, it's not a remnant of my trauma – it's perfectly normal.

The smile on my face when he used that word was more than a little bit embarrassing.

That said, I'm trying as hard as I can to avoid that feeling altogether, regardless of how normal it might be, because it fucking sucks.

As the summer passes, drawing our inevitable separation even closer with each day, the feeling gets harder and harder to push away.

"It's a nine hour drive, Bella. Knowing me, I'll be able to cut it down to seven easily."

He's carrying my big beach bag in one hand and holding mine in the other as we stroll down to the path to the beach – our beach – for what will likely be one of the last times before we leave.

"I don't like it," I moan, uncharacteristically petulant as he tries to talk me out of my slump yet again.

"We can meet halfway, in Philly or something. Then it's an even shorter trip."

"Ew, Philly. Let's both just stay here. A life as trust fund babies sounds great right about now."

"Bella," he sighs, "stop it. It's going to be great. I'll be fine, you'll be the brainiac of the century, and we will be _great._"

"… You promise?" I wheedle.

He rolls his eyes at me.

"Of course I promise."

"And you won't fall in love with some bleach blonde Carolina debutante-sorority-president-skank and leave me rotting in Ithaca, will you?"

"How much of a skank are we talking, here?" he asks, and I throw a fist in his general direction which he neatly dodges.

"That's it, I'm not going," I pout, flopping down on the sand as I absorb some of the last Florida sun I'll be seeing for a while.

He drops down onto the blanket and then pushes himself on top of me, locking his eyes with mine as he presses me into the sand with his body weight. My hands instinctively slide under his shirt and rest just under where his rib cage finishes on his back.

"If I wanted blonde and tanned and vapid and generally second-rate, I'd have it. But I don't want that. I want first-rate, so I chose you."

"You got stuck with me," I mutter, regardless of the fact that there's no way my words could go unnoticed given our proximity.

"Enough, Bella." His voice holds a seriousness that I very rarely hear – he's usually so playful.

"I know, I know," I sigh. "I'm just being needy and stupid because I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too, but we'll see each other every chance we get, and we're both going to awesome schools, so we really have no right to be complaining. Not to mention, you're pissing away what little time we have left acting like this, so enough is enough."

"Yes, sir," I say defiantly.

"Is it wrong that hearing you say that turns me on a little bit?"

I roll my eyes and try to wiggle out from underneath him, to no avail.

"You writhing around like that isn't helping matters one bit, I hope you realise."

"You know what? I changed my mind. I'm not going to miss you at all."

"Lies," he murmurs, dropping his face into my neck and, much to my surprise and chagrin, rubbing his rough stubble all over the sensitive skin there. I squeal and try to push him off, and although I see straight through his attempts to distract me and make me laugh, I allow the juvenile happiness to take over.

* * *

"I still can't fucking believe that he – ARGH!"

"I know, Alice."

"But he just – I don't even… and YOU!"

"I'm sorry."

I'd be more sympathetic if this conversation hadn't occurred countless times since the fateful graduation lunch.

_Esme had invited myself, Charlie, Alice and her parents over to their home to celebrate the three of us graduating. Alice, although slightly taken aback by the invitation, had been quick to accept it when she found out that Jasper, who had just finished college for the semester, would be back in town for the affair._

_That was, until we met Charlotte._

_Jasper's girlfriend._

_She really was lovely. Charming, with a dry wit that instantly made you like her. She was pretty much perfect… but with one glaring flaw._

_She was essentially a blonde, 22 year old Alice._

_The similarities between them in terms of appearance were just… disturbing. Even more so with Alice sitting beside her, chatting happily away as though she hadn't been coveting the girl's boyfriend for a year. She was blonde, yes, but she had the small frame, elfin features and wide eyes that gave Alice all of her appeal. _

_It was just… creepy._

_I sat beside Edward, watching the two women converse, and tried to stop my mouth from hanging open._

"_It's fucking weird, isn't it?" he murmured into my ear._

_I could only nod in response. _

"_Jasper swears he didn't realise, but… come on, they're basically identical."_

_I nodded again, unable to tear my eyes from the freak show in progress._

_In all fairness, Alice handled everything like a champion. Most of the guests as well were able to avoid the elephant in the room, and acted for the most part like there was nothing unusual about Edward's brother dating what was essentially Alice's twin._

_Except for me._

_I was a total buffoon, and, if the kicks Alice sent to my shins were any indication, my attempts to cover my morbid fascination with the whole ordeal failed dismally._

_But I just couldn't look away._

"_So, Bella," Charlotte addressed me directly, probably to break the awkward tension caused by my staring, "are you excited about college?"_

"_Oh," I blinked harshly, trying to break out of my trance, "um… yeah. It's going to be weird – like, really, really, unbelievably weird – Ow!"_

"_What is it, sweetheart?" Esme asked._

"_Stubbed my toe on the table leg."_

_Alice's shoe slamming down on my toe._

"_Oh, well be careful," Esme chided gently before her expression slid back to the careful nonchalance that had permeated it all day._

"_You were saying?" Charlotte prompted._

"_Oh, right. Well, yeah, as I said, it's going to be an adjustment, but I'm excited, you know?"_

"_Me too, New York is going to be amazing!" Alice crowed, glaring in my direction quickly before she diverted the attention of the room safely away from me._

_That was probably for the best._

"Your apologies mean nothing to me, Bella!"

And the glare is back.

"Probably because I've already said them _a thousand times before_, Alice."

"Pfft, whatever."

I roll my eyes, hoping that her eyes are focused on the road and she didn't see.

"And now I'm leaving for New York, and you're leaving for Ithaca – which I'm totally thrilled about by the way because you're so close to me and all – but that means that I won't even have an excuse to come home for the weekend to try and molest him."

"… Except for your parents."

"Oh, good idea!" she says, bouncing once in her chair. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around!"

"Alice, maybe it's time to just… let this one go."

She huffs.

"That's easy for you to say, you already have a Cullen all to yourself."

"Darling, he's with someone else."

Granted, she could be Alice's twin, but still, the fact remained.

"If Esme raised him the way I suspect she did," I continue, trying to mollify her with my tone, "there's no way he's going to cheat on her."

Alice sighs deeply.

"I know that. I do. It just… it sucks, y'know?"

"I know."

I reach across the console and pat her knee softly, because it does suck.

"But," I continue before we succumb to the depressive tone in the air, "you're strong, and you're awesome, and headed to New York, so you have nothing to be upset about."

"Yeah," she sighs, her forlorn expression lifting a little at the very mention of her dream coming true.

"You never know, maybe you could hook yourself an oil magnate's son or something," I tease.

"You're right. Although, I'd definitely prefer something a little more glamorous than oil… maybe hotels."

"Whatever you want, Alice."


End file.
